


Butterflies

by laceandbutterfly



Series: Butterflies [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Difficult Decision, F/M, Long Distance Relationship, pre-wedding jitters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:57:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 91,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceandbutterfly/pseuds/laceandbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people have pre-wedding jitters. When the free-spirited Julia decides to settle down with the man she loves, her world is turned upside-down by one Tom Hiddleston who she thought she’ll never meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pre-wedding Jitters

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a story that is inspired by real-life events and people around me. I believe there are so many people out there who can write much better fluff and smut than I do so I’m trying out a different style…trying to make it sound realistic. I am not an experienced writer and English is not my first language so please bear with me ^^

_Pant, pant…_

C’mon, you can do this!  Keep breathing.

_Pant…Gasp…Gasp!_

Okay…Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

I can feel it burn.  The sweat is making it hard to keep my arms crossed over my chest, since it’s making them slippery and sticky at the same time.

I took a quick glance at the clock on the wall.  How can “30 seconds more” feel this long?

“Six, five, four, t-threeee…TWO!….ONEEE!” I am literally spitting the words out.

With a loud thump, I let my back collapse onto the mat, chest heaving.  _Breathe, Julia, breathe._ Arms slide along my stomach until my elbows rest on each side of my body.  Completely exhausted, I don’t even bother to push away the strand of sweat-soaked hair that got stuck on my cheek.  I try to blow it away but fail miserably.  I close my eyes in defeat and in exhaustion.

I have never been the sporty type.  I am sure my PE teacher let me pass the subject merely out of sympathy because I was one of the best students (academically) in school.  She gave me 25/50.  I wasn’t overweight or anything, but since I graduated from university and started working, I have gained 20 pounds.  TWENTY pounds!  It’s unforgivable.  I feel disgusting.  I never snack on junk food, and I eat healthily.  It must be the stress and the lack of sleep that put weight on me.  Now with the wedding date approaching, I just want those extra pounds OFF.  After 2 months of daily workout, I have lost 15 pounds but I’m now kind of stuck at that.  The remaining 5 pounds are just stubborn as hell.

I pull myself up and grab the water bottle.  All the hard breathing and sweating have left me feeling really thirsty. 

God, it’s only a month left. 

I gotta admit, I am nervous.  I’m not really worried about the wedding itself, since we have agreed to have a simple and minimalistic wedding.  We’re only going to have 30 guests or so with us.  I even bought my wedding gown and evening gown (for the reception) online, for God’s sake.  I’ll do my own make-up and hair.  I simply don’t believe in putting a lot of money into the wedding and then you’ll need to be in debt or be thrifty for the next few years.  No matter how big you make it to be, the best you can get is “a grand opening”.  The marriage is, instead, the real deal.  You see, I’m the kind of person who people have described as “a breath of fresh air” or “a free spirit”.  I’m not sure if I am really like what they call me, but I have noticed that all I have been doing is part-time jobs or temporary jobs because the idea of being tied down to one thing for my entire life completely freaks me out.  The same goes with having piercings or tattoos.  I don’t have any because I feel uneasy with the idea of having something that permanent on my body.  I always need the assurance that I have other options, and if something doesn’t work out, I can leave.  That’s why I love traveling…now when I think of it, it’s probably the way I escape from reality. 

Yes, I love my fiancé and yes, I do want to marry him.  But I _AM_ freaking out once I realize there is only one month left.  I have been having these little panics every now and then.  I mean, that’s it.  This.  Is.  It.  You’ll spend the rest of your life with this one person.

_How can I be sure he is the One?  What if it doesn’t work out?  What if I meet someone more compatible after I get married?_ I keep assuring my dear Jeff (actually his name is JF, which stands for Jean-Francois.  But if you keep saying JF quickly it’d end up sounding like Jeff.  He’s from Montreal by the way, which explains the name) that I’m not having second thoughts but gosh, who knows?  Jeff is sweet and caring and I’m sure I’d be happy with him, but I have met other guys who share much stronger chemistry with me.  Jeff is a safe choice, and my parents adore him. Especially with me turning 28 soon, I guess it’s reasonable to go for it.

I am going crazy and decide to call my ex-coworker who is from London.  She only worked in the school which I also worked at for 2 years but we instantly hit it off.  She’s now one of my closest friends and she makes the effort to come back for a visit every year.  I do a quick calculation in my head for the time difference, and press “call”.

“Hello?” said a sweet feminine voice.  _Gosh…I love her British accent._

“Hey Alice, it’s me Julia!” I sound more normal now that I’ve caught my breath back.

“Oh hey, how are you?  You’re almost a married woman, how crazy is that!” Alice’s smile is contagious even across the thousands of miles between us.

“I’m doing good…but…I’m so nervous about getting married!” My smile quickly turns to a sigh.  “…Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure, you sweetheart,” she pauses.  “I’m sure everything’s fine.  He must be feeling something similar too.”

“Yeah that’s what he told me too, but with me uprooting my whole life from here and move to a new country, a new continent even…it’s so scary.” I close my eyes and shake my head wearily.  “I…I’m freaking out here.”

“It’s absolutely normal to feel nervous, my dear.  It’s a big leap of faith for both of you!  The most important thing is that you care for each other and from that, everything else flows.”

Alice is always such a sweetheart and after talking to her for around 10 minutes, I already feel myself more relaxed than before.  We then start chatting about everything and gossip about some of the common people we know, i.e. the crazy teachers we used to work with.  We have a few giggles and suddenly the way she speaks reminds me of someone.

“Hey Alice, do you know the actor Tom Hiddleston?  He’s from your country.”

“Err…yes, why?”

“Oh, it must sound so silly but I’ve been having this HUGE celeb crush on him these days!” I can feel my excitement building up inside and I am starting to make exaggerated gestures.  “Well, I’ve been watching his interviews on YouTube non-stop and I totally LOVE the way he speaks.  Strangely, the way he talks reminds me so much of you – so polite, well-spoken, well-educated, nice articulation…everything!”

“Hahaha…erm, I think I’ll take that as a compliment?”

I giggle and mumble something as I feel a bit embarrassed after telling Alice about my current celebrity crush.  I am probably a bit too old for that.  Alice is also more than 10 years older than me even though she doesn’t look that old at all.  She also acts like she’s in her 20’s and that’s why we get along so well.

“Actually,” she hesitates.  “About Tom…”

_That’s weird.  I hold my breath, sensing that she’ll have something important to say.  She even addresses him as “Tom”._

“…You need to promise, no, _swear_ that you’re not going to tell anyone.  I’m only telling you because you’re a good friend.” Now she sounds very serious.

“Okay, I promise.”

Alice held her breath, then said quietly, “…I know him.”

My jaw drops.  I think my heart skips a beat.  I can’t think for at least 2 seconds.  What…?  How…?  My close friend and…Tom.  Tom is from another world!  With me living in Asia, he feels so unreachable that he may just live in Asgard and it really wouldn’t make any difference!  I somehow pull myself together and exclaim, “Wh-WHAT?  You know him?”

“He’s my cousin.”


	2. Pre-wedding Trip

I can’t believe it. 

That’s impossible!  My friend is actually Tom’s cousin?  But…I mean…don’t we…live in two totally different worlds?  She has got to be joking.

“No way!”  I am now holding my phone so tightly that I may break it.

“Yes, Julia, yes.  I’m serious.” Alice doesn’t sound like she’s kidding.  “Shoot, I really should have kept my mouth shut.”

I am not really listening, I feel a bit light-headed and excited at the same time.  “S-so, Alice!  You mean you see him often and stuff?”

“Well, not really.  He’s been so incredibly busy since that thunder god film and he is hardly ever in the UK anymore.  My father has been complaining about it, but of course we are all very proud of him.”

“Oh,” that’s all I manage to say.

“Please do remember not to tell anybody about it though.  We were aware that he was becoming more successful and famous, but we didn’t really realize how big he’s become until I googled him out of curiosity one night, I was trying to show my father a video clip he was in.” She sighs, “Christ…”

I smile, “yes I know.”

“We don’t want to interfere with his business or anything.  He’s my cousin and he always will be.  I’ll always see him as my cousin Tom, not a big movie star.  We have doctors, teachers, scientists in our family and acting is just another job.  But those paparazzi…poor Aunt Diana…oh, that’s T-“

“Tom’s mother, I know.” I interrupt without thinking.

“See?  No privacy at all!  Other people know everything!” Alice is sounding a bit irritated now.

“Sorry…” I apologize softly, my cheeks heating up.

Alice takes a deep breath, “it’s not your fault, sweetheart.  Things just get out of control and Aunt Diana warned us about it.  If the reporters want something, they are willing to do anything to get it.  They just…they are everywhere.  Most of the time, they’re harmless but it’s certainly annoying.  So it is definitely better not to let other people know we are connected to Tom.  I never mentioned that to you before because I never felt the need to.”

“Oh, of course, Alice.  Of course.  You don’t even need to explain that to me.”  I reply calmly.  _What do you expect, Julia?  Even if your friend is Tom Hiddleston’s cousin, of course they would react in this way.  It’s even worse – now it will feel awkward to talk about Tom with Alice, let alone being my usual fangirl self around her.  I will need to act as if Tom Hiddleston is the most boring subject ever.  Great._

I try to lighten up the mood, and smile, “hey, so…that’s what it’s like to have a big star in the family huh?  I thought mine is already quite special, considering my dad did meet Bruce Lee and punched him!”

“I still think yours is a million times cooler than Tom!  Bruce Lee is a _LEGEND_.”  She emphasizes.

Our phone conversation continues for a few more minutes before Alice needs to take her father to a doctor’s appointment.  I hang up the phone feeling unsure about what’s just happened.  I look down on my left hand – yes it’s still there, the engagement ring.  This is real.  I shake my head and put my right hand on my chest, feeling my heartbeat.  I laugh at myself.  _What, do you think you’ll just suddenly meet Tom Hiddleston like what they write in those fan fictions?  Tom and you belong to two worlds.  What Alice just told you doesn’t make any differences.  Focus on your own wedding.  You’re going to be someone’s wife in a month._

However, before I can stop myself, I am typing a text message to Alice.

 

**Hi, just thinking, can you pls at least get me a photo of him or even an autograph?  I would love you forever!  Pretty please?**

There isn’t a reply for 2 hours.  I stare at my cell phone like a hawk, willing it to vibrate or light up soon.  Finally I go to bed.  I wake up and see a reply from Alice.  I am quite short-sighted so I need to put the screen closer to me and narrow my eyes.  The text reads,

**I can do better than that.  x A**

What does she mean?  She can do better than that?  I put my glasses on and…yes, that’s what she said.  I look at the time and decide it’s not the time to call her, so I send her a text reply instead.

**What do you mean? *confused***

Knowing that she should be sleeping at this hour over there in the UK, I don’t expect a prompt reply from her.  I try to keep myself busy for the morning by browsing through more bridal hairstyle ideas online.  It’s quite stressful to do your own make-up and hair on your own big day.  I didn’t think too much of it and thought I could just let my hair down and wear a hair band.  But Jeff said he’d love it to be more special and the exact words he used were, “please braid something.”  How can I do those complicated braids at the back of my head?  Okay…google “braid bridal hairstyles”.  Hmm…there should be some I can manage to do…

I am feeling quite bored after around an hour and decide to do something else, like to see if that blog has been updated yet – the blogger writes the most hilarious things and she interprets all Tom Hiddleston’s tweets in a super funny way.  She basically makes everything Tom says or writes sound like a Hiddlesworth thing.

I am curling my side pony tail when the phone beeps – I jump and almost burn my fingers.  “Sheesh,” I gingerly put down the curling iron and make sure it won’t burn anything on the counter, and pick up my phone.  I am instantly taken aback and frown at the message:

**Pack your bag and come to London by Friday.  Send me the itineraries asap.  No what’s no but’s.  Trust me.  x A**

I cock my head and try to make sense out of the words.  I am typing a reply to say my what’s and but’s, when the screen tells me a new text message just comes in.

**Just come.  Trust me on this one.  I told JF as well, he says, enjoy!  x A**

I am really confused at this point.  I asked for a photo and autograph and she completely ignored what I said and is now telling me to go to London instead.  I put two and two together and come up with the conclusion that – I’m going to see Tom Hiddleston.  But that’s plain silly.  I double-check online and he should be in New York filming.  I may have a better chance to see him when I go to Montreal to get married next month than going to London now.  Hmm, Alice never acts this way.  She is a spontaneous and adventurous type, but she has never asked me to go to London on such short notice.

Oh well, I haven’t been to London for 3 years and I miss Europe terribly.  Besides, my traveling days are limited now.  If I happen to get pregnant soon, it’d be a nightmare to travel with kids.  I have quit my job to get ready for the emigration, I’ve got some savings, and my wedding preparation is pretty much done, so _pourquoi pas_?

I immediately go online and search for flights that leave tomorrow.  It’s quite pricey especially it’s still the peak season.  I confirm with Alice to see if it’s okay for me to come back home after 2 weeks because I already booked my flights to Montreal leaving from my home city.  I don’t want to bring all my bridal stuff to London anyway.

My mind drifts off again when I am waiting for the printer to print out my itineraries and confirmation.  I am definitely thinking more about Tom Hiddleston than my own fiancé these days.  I am not ashamed of it though, because I know that’s just a silly fantasy and I belong to the real world.  I giggle and shake my head again when suddenly the thought of Tom jumping out from a huge cake like they do in a cheesy movie comes to my head.  _Oh Julia, don’t get your hopes up.  It’s unlikely that you’re going to meet him at all._

 


	3. In Town

After buying the flight tickets, I know there are quite a lot of things to do.  The best stunt I’ve pulled so far was to plan a 2-week European trip in less than a week.  I even needed to coordinate with my travel partner, my best friend Talia on hotel reservations and places to go and advanced bookings and everything.  It was a challenge but we managed to make it an awesome trip.  (I smile at the memory…2 weeks in Italy, YAY!)  This time, however, I am hyperventilating a little bit.  I stand in the center of the living room with my left index finger resting on my chin while my right hand rests on my hip, trying to think but nothing comes to mind.

Okay…

Breathe.

I fan my face with my hands frantically. 

Okay.

I close my eyes and con-cen-trate…

“Hotelinsurancethenpack.” I whisper to myself.

Luckily, as a frequent tourist (I wouldn’t say I am a “traveler” since I don’t really do in-depth things that they do, and I am quite reserved to go to those cool places like India or Cambodia by myself), I always have my wheeled luggage ready, my passport is always at least 8 months ahead of its expiration date, and I have my travel insurance agent’s number on my phonebook.  Oh, just in case of emergencies, I have some small change in different currencies.  I march into my bedroom and open the second drawer on the left.  Inside the tattered envelope, I find around 50 pound sterling, 140 Canadian dollars, 60 Euros, and a 5 American dollar note.  Note to self: get some more US dollars.  Ah, even my Oyster card is there!  50 pound sterling is not enough but…I have my credit cards.  Gosh this trip is going to do some major damage to my wallet.

Okay.  Next, call the agent. 

I make sure she knows that I’m leaving tomorrow and I will transfer the insurance premium to her in an hour.  She says it’s absolutely no problem and tells me everything will be taken care of.  Luckily I call her before the office is closed – I wouldn’t know what to do if Alice had sent me the messages in the evening. 

Alright.  Insurance, check.

Now hotel…

***

I yawn as the flight attendant hands me the menu.  I rub my eyes and try to stifle another yawn, which makes my eyes water. 

“Stayed up all night to pack?” My neighbor, a younger version of Martin Freeman lookalike, smirks.

I am a bit startled, but I try to blink my tears away and nod politely towards his direction.

“Well, you have some 13 hours to catch up,” he grins.

I smile back, “yeah…as long as there are no crying babies.”

He lifts his eyebrows in an I-know-what-you-mean kind of way and returns to tap aimlessly on the little screen in front of him.  He’s cute, but I can make use of some moments of silence.  I don’t feel like staring at the screen just yet and keep myself entertained by looking at the clouds outside of the window.  I feel butterflies in my stomach because I only know I am going to London but I don’t even know what I am doing over there.  Besides, I keep having this (probably false) hope on meeting Tom!  To tell you the truth, I did pack some nicer clothes of mine just in case.  I even made room for a pair of heels in my tiny luggage, which I’ve never done before because I usually travel light.  I thought about packing some of my best lingerie too but stopped myself…oh my, those fan fictions have really made me a bit delusional.  _You are freakin’ ENGAGED, to be married!_

I laugh inwardly again at my own stupidity, earning a quick glance from Martin (yeah I’ve named him Martin).  Perhaps watching something would help distract myself.

Or so I wish.

You know how the in-flight entertainment is usually a little bit behind because they need to wait until the movies are released on DVD or need to deal with license and stuff?  As a result, they’re showing quite a number of movies from last year.  And do you know how many movies Tom Hiddleston starred in?  FOUR.  Of course _Thor_ would be there, and also _War_ _Horse_ , _Midnight_ _in_ _Paris_ and _The_ _Deep_ _Blue_ _Sea_.  I have watched Thor for 3 times but for the rest I have never sat down and watched them properly.

This is not good.  I try to take my mind off everything and instead, Tom Hiddleston is everywhere.  What can I do?

I GIVE IN.  MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Isn’t that the logical thing to do?  If I don’t get to see him in real life, at least I can see him in movies.  I heard War Horse is pretty good since Jeff went to see it with his mom and they came back with great reviews.  So I’m going to start with that one.

The next thing I know is Martin tapping on my shoulder lightly and he says something to me.  With the low hum of the engine, I can only work out, “…drink?...they…” as I struggle to open my heavy, heavy eye lids. 

Damn.

I SLEPT THROUGH MORE THAN HALF OF THE MOVIE.  One of the earphones even drapes over my chest and I don’t even notice.  Aaarrrggghh not again!  Last time when I flew to San Francisco, I drifted between dreamland and reality when I was watching Iron Man 2.  And for the following three months I kept having the impression that Iron Man 2 was a boring movie.  I feel so stupid.  I rub my eyes, quickly check if I have drooled in my sleep, scramble to put the earphone back in reflex, and pause the screen.  Then I realize what I’ve just done – why put the earphones back in and pause the movie?  Oh.  I take off the earphones and look around.  Ah, the air hostesses are serving pre-meal drinks.  I whisper to Martin, “hey thanks.” 

“No problem.  Just thought you may want to stay hydrated for the flight, and War Horse is too good to be slept  through,” he points at my screen.

“Oh,” I look dazed.  “Yeah…”

I rewind the movie to the last point I remember, while staying awake for the drink and the following meal.  I manage to finish the movie and try not to cry for all those moving scenes.  I sniff and pretend I am brushing against my eyes with my fingertips out of sleepiness.    Or I’d just hide my face behind my long side bangs.  If Jeff’s here with me right now, I can simply let the tears flow because he knows I am a big crybaby.  

I try to watch The Deep Blue Sea too but I blame my tiredness for…sleeping through it _again_ shortly after it starts.  Sorry, Tom.

The rest of the flight is not that eventful.  I have some scattered chats with Martin.  We are both glad that there are no crying babies nearby.  I remember I did once sit next to a guy who had at least 10 cans of beer in a desperate attempt to fall asleep because the baby sitting across the aisle just wouldn’t stop crying.  For the whole flight.  Now that would be a huge headache.  I don’t need it this time, especially I am not really prepared for it.  However, I am happy with the fact that flying to Europe is a few hours shorter than flying to the east coast of North America from my city, and it makes a huge difference.

I am sure the plane is now descending because I can feel the pressure in my ears.  I look out of the window and begin to feel excited despite the grey, dull sky.  I know flying in the clouds is more likely to cause turbulence but I like it when I press my palm against the window and imagine I’m touching the clouds.  It’s around late afternoon and I know I need to stay awake until night time to fight the jet lag.  I take out my compact mirror and make sure I look okay, but my eyes are all bloodshot and my nose looks oily.  Ugh I look terrible…I really should wash my face when I am still allowed to use the lavatory.

***

You know that awkward moment when you have cleared customs and you are walking into the arrival hall, seeing all these people and feeling like they are all staring at you?  And that you are expecting someone to pick you up but you can’t see them in the crowd?  AND you can’t stop and stand there to have a clear look because it makes you look stupid, let alone you will be in everybody’s way, so you keep walking as if you know where you’re going.  I always prefer having nobody to meet me at the airport to having one, just so that I can skip this awkward…thing.

Alice told me she would pick me up but I cannot see her anywhere.  I walk forward, dragging my luggage behind me, into a clearing from the small crowd.  I turn back and look at the people from behind…oh, that looks like her!  In her usual grey skirt and sandals.  I hesitate when I am behind her because she looks…a bit shorter than I remember…the woman turns her head to the side at that moment and I’m glad I haven’t tapped on her shoulder or anything.  I keep walking around the crowd and I am sure Alice isn’t here.

I am just trying to find my cell phone in my carry-on bag when I hear an excited squeak, “JUUUUULIA!”

I look up and there she is.  Her curly deep strawberry blond hair is flying crazily as she walks, even though she has pinned it into a messy bun like she always does.  She is also wearing a nice white embroidered blouson over a dark grey skirt that hits below her knees.  Her cheeks are a bit flushed from the hurried walk but I can tell she has a happy glow.

“Hey, you!” I open my arms towards her to invite a big warm hug.  “Finally!”

“Yes!”  She takes a step back from our tight squeeze and keeps her hands on my shoulders.  “Look at you!  The bride-to-be!  I can’t believe that my little girl is going to get married soon!”

I pout, “I’m not that little, Alice!”

She rolls her eyes and helps me with my wheeled luggage.  “That’s all you have with you?” She turns around and asks once we start walking towards the tube station.

I pretend to be offended, “I wasn’t given much time to pack now, was I?” 

She sticks her tongue out playfully.

“Hey, I need to top up my Oyster card first.  Let me know when you see one of those machines.”

“Sure.”

“And Alice, can you please tell me now why I am here?” I try hard to keep up with her.  She is taller than me and with her long legs, she can walk pretty fast.  She’s still in her hurried mode too.

“Oh that,” she says in the most casual way, pulling my luggage closer to her as we step on one of the many moving walkways.

I walk past her and stand in front of her.  “C’mon, you don’t tell me to fly all the way here to ‘oh that’ me.  What’s going on?” I demand.

She gives me the biggest grin, “my father’s birthday is this Saturday and we’re holding a party for him.  Everyone’s going to be there.  I mean, _everyone.”_   She makes the last word sound so dramatic that it’s like she is in a play.

My eyes widen and instantly narrow.  I lower my voice, “e-everyone as in, everyone?” 

She nods.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I slap her arm hard.

“OW!” She rubs her arm with her free hand.  “Well, _now_ I’m telling you.  I want to give you a surprise.”

“This Saturday means…that’s tomorrow!”

“Yes?”

“If you have told me earlier I would have known what to pack and I’d get your father something,” I frown.

“It’s okay, he adores you.  He’s never met you but I’ve told him all about you, how you have helped me during my stay in a foreign country and how nice you are to me.”  She gives me another warm smile.

“Aww, still, can you help me to choose something for him before the party tomorrow?  It’d be so rude to show up empty-handed, especially it’s going to the first time I ever meet him.”

Alice shrugs, “why not?”

“But how come _he_ will be there?  I thought he needs to be in the states filming?” I whisper even though there was nobody near us.

“Why am I not surprised you know that?” Alice gives me an amused smirk that makes me blush.  “Hmm, I guess he feels bad that he’s missing out on family events so much recently and he wants to make up for that.  I really don’t know…” She shrugs again, “oh well, anyway, he’ll be there.”

I can feel the butterflies return and start building up in my stomach on our way to my hotel.  I’ve stayed in a small hotel in Earl’s Court before and I quite liked it there so I made a reservation there again.  I have never visited where Alice lives in my previous trips, but I know that she lives in Putney.  She told me about it before and even sent me a postcard when she has just returned to the UK.  I checked the tube map before I left and was delighted to know that luckily, we will only be a few stations apart.

Alice stays with me and helps me settle down in my miniature room before we go out for a quick bite to eat.  But at 8pm, I am more than ready to go back to my room and rest.  We say goodbye and she tells me she’ll call me tomorrow morning for the arrangements.

Everything is super compact in the room – the size of the bathroom can be compared with the lavatory on the plane, seriously.  But I’m just a single girl and the room price is affordable.  Besides, it’s right next to a tube station so it’s all good.  I freshen up a little bit, plug in my netbook while I start to get ready for my shower.  I have been on the road (or in the air…?) for almost a whole day already and I have this strange “airplane smell” in my hair and my clothes.  Being a normal modern person, though, I can’t resist having a few clicks around the internet first.  I sent a short email to Jeff to let him know I’m alive and well, and tell him what Alice said to me.  I can imagine him rolling his eyes when he reads the message, haha. 

And then I see Tom Hiddleston’s update on Facebook:

 

**Tom Hiddleston**

9 hours ago via WhoSay Broadcast

Song of the Day: "Friday I'm In Love", by The Cure. Friday I'm in Love. With London. Home.

 

He _is_ here. 

In London.

I will see him tomorrow.


	4. Hello

I thought I was tired.  I really thought so.  I was when I was out eating.

After the shower, I snuggle happily under the covers in bed with my netbook, replying a few emails and checking the Facebook feeds.  But there must be something about the water in the UK.  Or it may be just the fact that I’m not used to it.  My hair is all super dry after the shower and it tangles REALLY badly, while my skin is also dried up – my arms and legs appear to be white and flaky.  I get up and put some lotion on (I even put some in my hair because I haven’t brought any leave-in conditioner) and it helps a LITTLE bit.  On top of that, I’m now completely awake because of the jet-lag.  But I know I need to sleep.  Imagine making a first impression with dark rings around your eyes and an empty, too-exhausted-to-process-any-information brain.

I let out a sigh and look around myself.  It is indeed very small but somehow I guess I am more adapted to close space than big one.  The room is a long rectangle.  When you walk in, the tiny bathroom would be immediately on your left.   The layout inside is exactly like the ones on the plane but there is also a small shower area opposite to the sink.  In the bedroom area the wall is painted crimson while the furniture carries a more neutral tone – brown, beige, cream, with some red details.  The single bed is fixed against the left wall, leaving a small hallway to its right that continues from the door.  At the end of the room, which is only about 3 feet away from the end of the bed, there’s a huge curtained window and a chair is placed in the corner next to it.  I turn on the TV which is mounted on the wall next to the bed, so when I sleep on my side I can watch it in a tilted way.  I try to watch the most boring show I can find, with some old men discussing politics or something.  I don’t know anything about politics, not the ones in my own country and certainly not the ones in Britain. 

I guess I did doze off at some point, with a vague memory of pushing the remote control away from where it lies next to my arm, and I think I snooze the alarm on my iPod at least twice when it goes off.  There is light sneaking through the curtain while the ceiling light is still on…hmm I must have forgotten to turn it off last night. 

My hair is covering my eyes when an annoying, unfamiliar ringing noise fills the room.  It’s not from the TV I’m sure.  It’s some kind of alarm?  I grab my iPod and pull it in front of my nose and aaarrrgh…no.  It goes on and on, it’s so loud I am worried it would wake up my neighbors.  Suddenly, I realize it is the phone.  A panic takes over me, the same one I have when I wake up being late for work.

Being fully awake now, I spring up and try to reach for the receiver.  However, the bed is bouncier than I thought, and from my sudden movement, when I have one leg about to step on the floor and the other still on the bed, I lose my balance and head for the wall.  Naturally one of my hands reaches out to keep my balance, but at that moment I know I’ll still end up on the floor.  I land on my knee, my previously injured one, and notice I now have a very painful wrist.  I must have pushed the wall in a weird angle and I must have hit it hard because the room is so small and the wall is only about 3 feet away from my bed.

The phone is still ringing.  I climb up and answer it with my good hand.  “Yes?” I sound more impatient that I intend to.

“Hello, front desk calling.  There is a Miss Collins asking for you, do you want me to send her up?” He doesn’t sound any less impatient than I am, probably from me keeping him waiting on the line.

“OOOH!  SH-“ I stop myself before I say the word.  “Yes, please do.  Thank you.”

I slam the receiver down and rub my face with my good hand vigorously, trying to make my nose less oily and to make sure my eyes are clean.  Hair is quickly finger-brushed – if there’s one thing I like about myself, it is my hair because it is naturally wavy and it has that “sexy bedhead” look…luckily I put some lotion in before I slept last night.  I hurry to at least put a bra on, to pretend I’ve been up for a while.  Alice is going to kill me if she finds out I have overslept.

 I am hooking my bra when there is a knock at the door.  “Coming,” I yell as I quickly pull down my camisole, having a quick look at my reflection in the full length mirror next to the door before I turn the knob. 

“Are you ready?” Alice lets herself in, walking past me.  “Did you get my text?”

“What text?” My mouth hangs open.  I close the door and rush to my carry-on bag which I put on the chair.

Of course.

I haven’t even turned on my phone since I have arrived in London.

Alice rolls her eyes, and sits down at the end of my bed.  There is nowhere else to sit because there is only one chair in the room and I’ve put stuff on it.  “You’d better hurry, we need to leave soon.”

“Give me 10 minutes,” I am now basically running into the bathroom.  “Thanks for dropping by early!”

“No problem, I was worried when you didn’t reply my text,” Alice says as she pulls out a bottle of wine from her backpack.  “I bought something for my father and you can give this to him, tell him it’s from both of us.”

I holler through the door, “Oh sweetie thanks for doing that!”  I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face.  Damn, the water DOES dry up everything!  The more you wash your hands the dryer they get.  I wonder if my moisturizer and lotion are enough for me to last the trip.  I stare at my own reflection in the mirror – and I look like crap.  I have several little red bumps on my forehead from the constant change of humidity – from the high humidity back home, to the dryness on the flight, and now the hard water in the UK.  One of my eyes is swollen from lack of proper sleep.  My fingers comb through my hair again and pull out loose strands.  This hard water is really doing me no good.  I quickly run my fingers through my hair with the leftover moisturizer after I am done with my face.  While I am doing all this, I am thinking about what to wear.  Taking a clue from what Alice is wearing today, I think it is going to be a casual backyard party.  She is wearing a dark grey thermal henley and black jeans, with some sort of olive green military jacket.  She has her hair up as usual in a curly messy bun.

I exit the bathroom (with a bang when it hits my foot as I open the door) and squat in front of my suitcase to see what I can wear.  I am a bit anxious because…you know.  No you don’t know, I am having a major panic-storm inside me but I can’t show it because Alice would think I’m crazy.  It’s “just” a family gathering.

My options are quite limited if I want to go “casual-but-subtly-eye-catching-and-sweet-and-sexy-but-not-trying-too-hard-and-I-don’t-dress-up-especially-for-you-Mr-movie-star”.   I must have spaced out for a while because Alice raises an eyebrow at me and says, “chop chop!”  Okay.  I will have this figure-hugging red scoop neck tee, dark boot-cut jeans and my white lace flats.  I haven’t brought any extra outerwear with me so I’d just wear the burgundy skirted coat that I fly here in.

Hmm, I am quite happy with what I see in the mirror when I step out from the bathroom (after more bangs and a lot of “are you okay?” from Alice).  Except my stupid swollen eye and my bumpy forehead.  I have no make-up with me but a tube of lip balm and a lipstick.  When we are ready to go, Alice notices me double-checking, triple-checking everything to make sure I have taken away all valuable belongings and I keep running my fingers through my hair. 

“Stop it.  You’re making _me_ nervous.  Relax!” She smirks.

“Huh?” I stop my fingers in mid-hair, not really realizing I am that obvious.  “I look nervous?”

“Oh yes.”  She nods.  “Come on, let’s go.”

I grab my leather bag and yelp, “OW!”  I feel a sharp pain in my wrist. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, stupid accident this morning.  I was being clumsy,” I say, gently rubbing my wrist.  “I’ll be more careful with it today.  Don’t worry.”

Alice gives a worried glance at my wrist and steps out of the door, “You should have that checked.”

I apply my lip balm and dab on my lipstick in the elevator, standing opposite to a very amused Alice.

“It’s going to be just a family gathering, you know.” She leans back against the elevator wall.

“Funny, that’s exactly how I imagine you would say it,” I reply, with my eyes glued to the little mirror in the lipstick case.  “Besides, it’s your family, not mine.  I need to show some respect, don’t I?”

She sniggers, “what _I_ think, is that you’re doing this for little Tooom-mieee.”

“Nooooo,” I try to pretend I am not by exaggerating my word, though I sound more comical than anything.  “What, you guys call him Tommy?”

“Sometimes, but I think he responds to almost any names you call him.  He responds the best when you say ‘pudding’, though.  He’ll be like a puppy,” Alice shakes her head and giggles.  “He never gets enough of desserts, the sweeter the better.” She is speaking of Tom like he’s her younger brother.

I look at Alice with intense interest when she is talking about Tom.  She must have noticed it, and warns me as we step out from the elevator, “Hey engaged woman, watch out.  Tom is a charmer and he tends to be quite touchy-feely, so don’t interpret anything the wrong way.  He does that to everyone.”

“Yes, I know that,” I try to answer matter-of-factly but I must admit I feel a bit offended at Alice’s heads-up.  Who does she think I am and why does she feel like she needs to warn me?  I am not some stupid little girl and I will only go and see Tom Hiddleston as a talented actor and nothing more.  The only interaction I will have with him is probably just asking for a hug and a photo.  I don’t want to bother him on a family occasion.  Anyway, I know Alice is only trying to be a good friend.

We need to take the underground to get to Putney and it is somewhat a short journey.  The house we’re going to is not that long a walk from the underground station but the nearer I get, the sicker I feel in my stomach.  I am trying hard to calm myself just so that I won’t throw up or something.  I do a checklist of myself in my head:

  1. The hair I’m usually proud of is dryer and harder than usual thanks to the hard water.
  2. My soft hands probably feel rougher than usual too because of the same reason.
  3. I have a swollen eye, which hopefully can be hidden behind my glasses.
  4. There are little bumps on my forehead.
  5. I have a painful wrist.
  6. I am starting to limp a little bit from the fall this morning and walking in the unsupportive ballet flats.



Argh.

Soon we are standing in front of one of the row houses.  Its exterior is painted baby blue and the door is white.  I can hear happy chattering and kids’ laughter when we approach the door.  Alice hands me the bottle of wine, and gives two hard knocks on the door.  The chattering stops and I can hear more than one person coming to the door at the same time.

“My dear!” A tall, thin elderly man beams at Alice.

“Happy birthday, dad!” Alice steps forward to embrace him.  Uh, so that’s Uncle Jimmy, Alice’s father.  I guess Alice inherits his genes because they are both tall and slender.

“You are here!” Another voice appears from behind Uncle Jimmy.

Alice walks inside the house and happily kisses on that woman’s cheeks.  I keep standing some distance away awkwardly, still outside the house.  I try to plaster a smile on my face to fake the same level of enthusiasm Alice has towards her family.

After a few seconds, Uncle Jimmy notices me.  “Oh!  You must be Julia!” He hurries outside, with his hand stretched for a handshake.

“Good morning, sir.  Happy birthday!” I try to give him the warmest smile I can, while trying not to wince at the pain I feel in my wrist from the handshake.

“Call me Uncle Jimmy, everybody does!  Come on in,” he gently places his hand on my back and leads me into the house.

I hand him the bottle once we step inside, “oh, this is from Alice and me.   We hope you’ll like it.”

“PER-fect!” He holds up the bottle and studies the label.  “This is going to go well with the pudding we are going to have later!  Hahaha!  We have made plenty knowing my nephew is with us this year.  Eat yours fast or he will finish everything before you can even lay eyes on the sweeties!” Uncle Jimmy keeps laughing while pressing his own tummy with the hand that’s not holding the bottle.

“Ehehehehee!” Here comes the familiar laugh.  “Did someone say pudding?”

I suppress a silent gasp.

The first thing I see is his curly hair when he walks through the hallway next to the stairs; it is reflecting the light through the window.  His long legs allow him to take only a few steps to reach Alice and he immediately wraps her in his long arms.  I hold my stupid smile on my face, and blink.  He is…a long person.  Long arms, long legs, long fingers and an elongated figure – tall and slim.  He is wearing the blue button-down shirt I have seen so many times on the internet and a pair of dark wash jeans.

Tom releases his tight squeeze of Alice, and kisses her cheeks with a BIG smile on his face.  “It’s been a while, Ali!  You look great!” He grins. 

Alice gives a half-squeeze on his arm, “and you’re thinner than I remember.  I’m giving you my pudding today.”  Tom throws his head back and goes “ehehehehee!” again.

Uncle Jimmy looks pleased at the little reunion and I guess it’s also because his beloved ones are all here celebrating his birthday.  I stay in the background feeling like an outsider.

Tom turns his head and sees me, “oh hello darling!” He briefly pressed his palms on both sides of his hips before stepping forward a bit more formally and offer a handshake.

I smile shyly, shaking his hand, “hello.”  I swallow the pain in my wrist and keep smiling, while screaming in my head, “ACT NATURAL.  ACT NATURAL.”

Tom cocks his head to one side, turns his head briefly at Alice, and studies my face again.  And he does all these while my hand is still in his.  Not that I want to let go, but I do feel my face starting to burn when his eyes meet mine.  I quickly look away.  I glance at Alice and Uncle Jimmy uncertainly.

“I know you,” he nods slightly, with a glint in his eyes.

Eh?


	5. A Star at Home

He knows me?  He _can’t_ know me.

It may only be a split second but a million things go through my mind – does he know me from one of those Hiddlestoners forums?  Or one of my blog comments on tumblr with his name’s hashtags?  No I don’t think he’s on tumblr.  I’ve left him comments on Facebook but I don’t think he replies to anything on Facebook.  …NOOOOOO…not from those comments I left on those smut fan fictions!  Nonononooo…I haven’t seen him in person and I haven’t posted him any fan mails before and I don’t have a Twitter account…

With my hand STILL in his (I am starting to suspect that he has totally forgotten about it), he twists to his right and points at Alice with his left index finger, says excitedly, “She’s your –”

“Ouch!” I try to make it quiet but I can’t help it.  My eyes water from the pull.

Tom immediately lets go of my hand and covers his mouth with his hands, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”  His eyes go wide.

Alice rushes towards me and cautiously half-cradles, half-holds up my wrist.  Tom and Uncle Jimmy crowd around me, and that makes my cheeks feel _really_ hot.   I guess that’s because of the walk we just had from the tube station, and we have just stepped inside a closed space, plus I’ve just got stared at by Tom Hiddleston, AND now I’m being surrounded by 3 tall people.

Alice doesn’t dare to move my wrist or do anything to it.  She just supports it in her hands, and asks me, “Are you sure you are okay?”

I slowly lift my hand and try to softly turn my wrist.  It is painful but I don’t think I have broken anything.  It is most likely a minor wrist sprain.  “Yeah, I think so.”

Tom runs his fingers through his hair, looking truly apologetic, and says, “I’m really, really sorry…”

“Oh, nonono!” I shake my head, manage to smile at him.  “It’s not your fault!  I hurt myself this morning in my hotel room.”

Two little girls run into the hallway giggling, and instantly stop when they see us.  They walk towards our little group unsurely but their curiosity takes over.  They squeeze through the long legs and stare at my hand, and then me, with big hazel eyes.  They have never met me before and they must be feeling a bit uneasy.  They look up at Uncle Jimmy and ask in a tiny voice, “What’s wrong, grandpa?”

He pats one of the girls’ head tenderly and comforts her, “Everything’s fine.  Auntie Julia has hurt her wrist and we are just checking it.”

The younger of the two girls pouts and starts to look genuinely sad.

I bend down to her and wrinkle my nose with a smile, “I am okay!  Don’t worry, I am Supergirl!” I tickle her nose with my good hand. 

She bursts out giggling and runs away.  The other girl follows her close behind.

“So, supergirl,” Tom’s fleetingly relaxed eyebrows frown again.  “I think you should have that checked professionally.”

“But it’s so troublesome for a foreigner to see a doctor…” I protest.  “And it’s Uncle Jimmy’s birthday party!”

“Nonsense!” Uncle Jimmy snaps, but in a warm, fatherly way.  “Annie!  An-nie!” He shouts towards the kitchen, leaning towards that direction to pick up hints of Annie responding.

Tom looks at me and lowers his head, “Annie is a nurse and she can check it out.” He cups his hand over my ear, and whispers, “Annie’s the smarter one.  Alice is the type who googled when Uncle Jimmy passed out once.”

I look at him in shock, and mouth “no way!”  when he nods with a boyish grin.  My ear is definitely burning now though from his unexpected whisper.  I am also pretty sure I am blushing like crazy.  _BE COOL, ACT NATURAL_.

Annie pokes her head out from the kitchen and says that she is in the middle of something.  Alice offers to take my coat and heads upstairs, while Uncle Jimmy and Tom, who feels responsible for my injury (though very unnecessarily), lead me into the kitchen.

It is a cozy, moderate-sized kitchen.  Most surfaces are painted cream and they go along well with the walnut kitchen countertops.  There is a little table next to the door with three matching chairs.  Lots of grocery bags are spread on it, while stacks of pans and pots are dangerously balanced along one edge of the table.  Annie has her back towards us when we enter the kitchen.  She is busily working on the food.  Uncle Jimmy approaches the stove, takes the spatula from Annie’s hand, and tells her he can take over when she goes and takes a look at my wrist.  Annie must have missed the moment when we came in, and is quite confused when she sees me.  She recovers quickly and gives me a smile, “What happened, love?”

We sit down at the table with Annie and Tom on my either side.  I tell Annie exactly what happened earlier this morning.  Tom purses his lips – I am sure he is trying not to laugh at my clumsiness.  An “ehe” escapes but he quickly hides it with a cough.  I narrow my eyes at him menacingly when Annie is examining my wrist.  I am amazed I can feel this much at ease around all these strangers, and in front of Tom – he feels like the type of person who can be everybody’s friend.  He does not feel like a super star at all.

“Can you move without severe pain?” Annie asks.  I nod.

“Well, it hasn’t swollen and I don’t feel it heating up, and nothing is broken,” she continues.  “Of course it would take an X-ray to make sure but for now I’d say you should be okay.  Just put some ice on it and you can wrap it up with bandages later.  If it gets worse in a couple of hours, make sure you go to the doctor.”

“Thank you,” I smile in relief.  Tom immediately gets up and heads for the freezer for an ice pack, “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” I say again, feeling a bit silly to repeat the same words within 10 seconds.

Annie pushes the chair back and stands up, “Now, if you can all leave the kitchen for the chef?” She jokingly shoos us away.  Uncle Jimmy decides to stay behind to at least tidy that table up and clear away some of the pots and pans, he probably doesn’t want Annie to cause any damages to his house.

I am back in my awkward state again because I don’t know where to go or what to do.  And of course, it seems that I’m left with the almighty Tom Hiddleston.  Alone.

Tom helps me with my bag and puts it on a short antique cabinet right outside the kitchen, and excitedly offers a house tour.  I welcome the invitation gladly.  “Let’s start with upstairs,” he strides towards the front door, turns swiftly, and takes 2 steps at a time to go upstairs.  I wonder how long he has not been here, with him showing such high level of zest.  I lower my head and carefully climb up the stairs because I have a history of being quite accident-prone and I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Tom.  I need to be extra careful now that I am trying to hold the ice pack on my wrist, and therefore I need to pay attention to my balance.

When I reach the top, I find Tom in front of the first open door on the right, standing with his legs apart and his hands in the pockets.  He is obviously deep in thought and I can see a hint of smile on his face.  He glances at me and points his chin at the room, “I used to come here to visit Uncle Jimmy and spend time with my cousins when I was a kid.  Whenever I had a sleepover, this would be my room.” I follow his gaze and look at a room which probably serves as a guest room / computer room now.  There is a simple single bed and a small home office on the other side.  There is also a clothes rack near the window and I make a mental note that Alice has hung my coat there.  Everything feels so surreal – I am being given a house tour by Tom Hiddleston, he’s telling me about his childhood, and I am being treated like an old family friend.  I have never imagined anything like this.  I am so going to tell Jeff.

He shows me the rest of the rooms on this floor, which are only another bedroom and a bathroom, and suggests we go back downstairs.  As we descend the stairs, I ask him, “Hey, so how do you know me?”

 He isn’t expecting the question and asks, “Sorry?”

“You said you know me, how?” I carefully hold the handrail when I walk down the stairs, letting the wrist have a break from the ice.

“Ah, that!  I’ve seen your face in some of the photos Alice showed us after she came back to the UK,” he chuckles.  “You are one of the teachers from that school right?  I’ve heard so much about that crazy school.”

His remarks make me laugh, “Crazy school indeed.”

“…It took a few seconds for me to remember who you are,” he continues, after rambling on a few things about what he has heard of my previous workplace – there is really no short answers from this guy.  We are now walking into the dining room which is right opposite to the kitchen.  “I mean, I knew I recognize your face from somewhere.  And you’ve lost weight!”

I raise my eyebrows, trying to recall how crappy and tired I looked in Alice’s pictures.  She took a lot of photos on her last working day in that school, and took a few of me when we went out for lunch.  I was constantly exhausted and angry from work back then.  I cringe at the thought of Tom having seen me in that state.

Tom abruptly stops next to the dining table, forces his eyes shut and curses himself under his breath, “Sorry, that was rude.” He looks at me with a sincere apology from his eyes again.

Before I can stop myself, I burst out laughing, “HAHAHA….sorry…” I cover my mouth desperately trying to calm myself.  “Sorry,” I catch my breath.  “I just, you, I mean, how come you’re always saying sorry?”

Tom widens his eyes questionably.

“First you apologized for something you didn’t do, and now you are saying sorry for giving me a compliment,” I shake my head.  “You’re Mr. Sorry.”

It is funny to see how his face changes from a doubtful frown to having a smile creep up his cheeks.  He breaks into a fit of laughter.  He is laughing so hard that his whole body jiggles.  “Yes I guess I am,” he says when he wipes away a few tears from his eyes.  It really is a breath of fresh air to see a person who is as pure as this, being able to laugh at the smallest things. 

When he regains his composure, he shows me the living room.  We enter through the arched doorway and find Alice reading the newspaper in the three-seat sofa.  Tom and I join her, deciding we can sit back and relax before the birthday brunch is ready.  It is true, he simply can’t keep his legs closed when he sits and thus makes it quite a lot more difficult and uncomfortable to sit next to him than I expected.  For one thing, as a tall man, he’s definitely heavier than I am and in a squashy sofa, you’ll need to try hard not to slide towards him; for another, he sits with his legs wide apart and his arms are spread on the backrest and the armrest.  Now, out of respect, and also because I’ve only met him for less than an hour, I need to try to sit closer to Alice so that my legs won’t touch his, and I can’t relax because it makes me feel weird to have his arm so close to the back of my neck.

He suddenly leans forward, which puts more pressure into the cushion he is sitting on, and I almost slide right into him.  “By the way, congratulations,” he gestures at my engagement ring.

I am now so used to wearing it that sometimes I forget it’s even there.  I look down at it, and give him a half-smile, “thanks.”

“So when’s the big day?”

“It’s about 3 weeks from now,” I keep fiddling with my ring, rather absent-mindedly.  “That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to lose some weight.  I want to look pretty that day.”

“But that’s crazy, you’re already very pretty!” He objects.  “You don’t need to lose weight to look good!”  And then he has this light-bulb-over-his-head moment, “Hey, why don’t we go jogging together tomorrow morning?  I don’t need to build muscles like Hemsworth does but I do need to stay in shape.”

“Thomas,” Alice lowers her newspaper and pushes herself more into the sofa to look at Tom past my back.  “You’ll probably want to ask the _fiancé_ first.”  I can’t tell whether she is just being funny or she is being serious.

I instantly blush at the comment (and Tom’s suggestion).  I thought Tom was only being friendly.  He’s surely not hitting on me, is he?  But Alice knows him way better than I do so…does that mean he _was_?

“Oh, come on!  I am only being nice,” all of a sudden Tom sounds like a little boy.  He looks at me earnestly, “What do you say?  It’ll be fun, I promise.  You want to exercise, I want to exercise, we can keep each other company!”

Now, my heart would definitely say yes in an instant; but my head makes me turn to Alice and suggests, “I’ll go if you go.” With the back of my head towards Tom, I try to do those crazy eye signals to Alice to ask her to say yes.  I add, “It’s Sunday, you won’t need to go to work.”

Alice’s “okay” is received by a cheer from Tom.  I know I am probably thinking way too much but I want to do the right thing.  Tom is indeed a charmer and it’s too easy for me to feel something towards him if he keeps being so perfect.  Well, I am sure he is only being nice and nothing more.  Still, why bring yourself troubles if you can simply not walk towards that direction, right?  I should think about Jeff and care about how he would feel.  After a pause, I try to keep my distance from Tom by stating the differences between us, “Tom, I never got the chance to tell you that I am a big fan of yours.”

For a moment I think I see something on his face.  It’s like the sparks in his eyes are gone and now he is behind a subtle mask.  I almost regret to have reminded him he is different from the rest of us.  Luckily, he still beams at me brightly and says politely, “Oh, thank you.  Do they show BBC programs over there?” His leg now crosses away from me.  Great.  And he rests his weight on the arm rest, widening the gap between us.  One wrong move and I’m now downgraded from a family friend to a common fan.

“Erm, some, but not many.  I’ve seen you in movies though,” I try to think of something quickly, sensing if I stop here the flow would be broken, and there may be uncomfortable dead silence.  “So which one did you have most fun in during the shooting?”  Even though it is exactly what I intended to achieve, the atmosphere now makes me regret it.  I mean, poor him, he must have come home to visit his family and relatives just to feel normal again, not to be reminded of his Hollywood self.  I try to play silly and hold an imaginary microphone as if I were interviewing him and placed my fist in front of his face.  I think I want to make up for what I said.

He lowers his head to pretend he is talking into the mic, “That’s a good question.  Hmm, it really depends because I love the cast of the Avengers, it’s always so much fun on set and I got to work with all these amazing actors who I’ve looked up to as a kid.  I mean, Samuel L. Jackson and…Robert Downey Jr….Thor is a lot of fun too; I simply love the magnificent movie set they built.  I spent most time in Asgard and let me tell you, what you saw on screen isn’t that much different from where I acted in.”

I give him an appropriate response by widening my eyes and go, “Really.”  Deep down, my heart sinks a bit because it feels like he has turned on his auto-pilot and all these words are so familiar in my ears.  Somehow he makes the efforts to make sure the interviewer (me) feel good because he really acts like he is interested in the questions.  He must have answered the same questions over and over again.

He nods confidently, and now picking at his jaw, “hmm, I love War Horse a lot too because well you know, I got to work with Spielberg and I absolutely adore all those horses…”

Recalling what I did on the plane, I start chortling.  He stops mid-sentence, perplexed. 

“Oh, that was rude.  Sorry,” I say, straight-faced.  “I just thought of something.”

“You got funny stories about horses?  Please do tell!  I love horses!”

“It’s not exactly about horses because in the city where I come from, the only chance I get to see live horses is at the racecourse.  But I was thinking about War Horse…gosh please don’t take it the wrong way, I _love_ the movie, and I DID finish watching it.  But I fell asleep on it when I was on the plane.”

Tom makes a sad face with puppy dog eyes.  My heart tightens because that’s what Jeff does too whenever he wants me to do something – he knows I can’t resist that face. 

I look away briefly and try to recover as quickly as possible, “Oh, the movie is great.  No doubt!  It’s just that I was too tired on the plane.  Sorry, Tom.”  I look up at the ceiling, “Sorry, Spielberg.”

Tom tries to keep his sad face for as long as possible until he explodes with laughter.  He holds his own waist too when he’s laughing.  I cannot help but start laughing too but keep my eyes open to see how he is going to respond.  He makes weird noises when he is trying to breathe in and stop laughing at the same time, still with a big teethy grin, he points at me, “ _YOU_ are Miss Sorry.”

“Sorry,” I say without thinking.  And I laugh again, “Hahahaa…sorry for saying sorry, again.”

Even Alice starts laughing, from overhearing our conversation.  

“I completely slept through the Deep Blue Sea too,” I confess, pressing my lips together.

“Oh come on!  And you call yourself a big fan,” Tom shakes his head in mock disappointment.  “But that’s fine, at least it feels more comfortable not to sit in front of someone who has seen my naked butt.” He moves his eyebrows up and down.

 I can feel the heat creeping into my cheeks from both of my ears.  I don’t know how to respond to that!  I smile and copy his up-down-up-down eyebrows move and I don’t know why.  How does he do that?  He _IS_ indeed a charmer.  And I definitely can’t see how he can be freakin’ single. 

“BRUNCH’S READY!” Annie’s announcement from the kitchen saves my embarrassment at the moment.  And I can hear an echo of “BRUNCH’S READY!” coming from Uncle Jimmy yelling out to the backyard, beckoning the people to come inside.

Despite the lines on his face, Tom looks truly blissful with his eyes smiling as he rises from the sofa.  I know he loves his job, but I am sure he loves his family too.

“You coming?” He offers his hand to help me stand, and I instantly know I’ve got myself a new good friend.  Oh yes, I’m so going to tell Jeff this.


	6. The Brunch

The brunch is absolutely awesome.  It may sound cliché but they have prepared full English breakfast – they even made their own baked beans, not the canned ones.  When Uncle Jimmy offers me tea, even though I have it all the time at home, I still choose to have Earl Grey because I totally, totally _love_ that aroma.  Uncle Jimmy looks amused to see me put the tea bag in front of my nose and breathe in deeply.

Having walked to the table together, Tom keeps me company by sitting next to me.  Now I finally meet everyone in the house: the older of the two girls is Matilda, she is 6 years old.  The younger one, who is going to turn 3 next month, is Chloe.  They were outside in the backyard with their parents, Deborah and Robert (Alice’s big brother), and Annie’s son Liam (7 years old).  Together with Uncle Jimmy, Alice, Annie, Tom and me, we occupy all 10 seats around the dining table, including a folding chair and a high chair.  I feel quite happy when Chloe wants to sit with me (and of course after some shuffling of the chairs in order to place her high chair next to mine), because it makes me feel like I’m really accepted by this family.

I almost forgot about the pain at my wrist until I try to pick up the teacup.  I am right-handed but now I am trying to depend on my left hand.  Chloe is sitting on my left so I really need to be extra-cautious when I pick up the cup of hot tea.  Luckily, she is an angel.  Wow…the food looks and smells scrumptious – I try the home-made baked beans and immediately moan, “Mmm…!  Wow.” I look at Annie and gesture at the beans, “This is GOOD.” Annie grins from ear to ear, places a hand on Uncle Jimmy’s shoulder, and leans towards him proudly, “It’s all because of daddy’s recipe.”  Uncle Jimmy lightly squeezes Annie’s hand and smiles at her.  Aww , that’s so sweet!  It’s almost like a beautiful Hallmark card and it would certainly make a great photo.  Then I suddenly realize that I forgot to bring my camera.  Being a photo freak, especially when I am traveling, I always take photos of all the pretty food I eat.  Even my friends would make fun of me and they would ask for my “permission” to start eating, just to make sure I have taken a photo of the food before they mess it up.  Sometimes they even “help” by passing my camera along, around the table, to take a photo of their own plate for me.  I can’t believe I have left my camera in the hotel room.  I want to remember this sweet family forever – when the trip is over, all you have left are the photos, which would help you to recall things.  I look at Tom a bit nervously (is he _that_ hungry, by the way?), and asks, “Tom, can I ask you a favor?”

“Mm-hm,” he answers, finishing the mouthful of toast.  “What do you need?”

“Can you help me take a photo of the food?  I forgot my camera and I only have a crappy old cell phone,” I confess, a bit embarrassed.

“Sure,” he obliges without any questions.  Wow.  Usually people would give me a funny look and ask me why.  But he doesn’t.  He then goes ahead and snaps some photos of the food and of his family.  Chloe is being SO cute – she immediately stops eating and grins at the phone showing all her teeth to have her photo taken.  She is having such a wide grin that her eyes are like two curved lines.  Tom goes “ehehehehe” when he takes the photo of his dear little cousin.  “Hey, we should take one of us too, my new friend.”  He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, his cheek touching mine.  I can feel the stubble on his face.  I dare not move an inch next to him, but let me tell you, he smells _good_.  Not smelling like artificial cologne or aftershave but he smells like as if he’s just got out from the shower.

I am surprised that I can still act normal after that.  I point at his phone and say, “Please remember to send me those.”

“Of course,” he taps and swipes on the screen and hands me the phone.  “Your email address please?”

I gulp silently and enter my email address on his phone…I don’t know about you but that feels a bit…weird.  I mean, it feels a bit intimate to use someone’s cell phone.  I know I am not exactly “using” it, but still, you know.  I’m probably thinking too much again, because look at him, he is doing it like he does it all the time.

I have just given the phone back to Tom when Uncle Jimmy says to us, “Come on, eat up!  Before they get cold!”

I finish half of the baked beans before moving on to other things.  I want to try the sausages and bacon but all I can do is to try to pick up the suddenly-heavy knife weakly.  I don’t know how I can cut the bacon with this little strength in my right wrist.  I am still struggling whether I should just pick up the bacon with my fingers (because I quickly look around and nobody is doing that) when Tom glances at my direction and goes, “Hey, let me help you with that.”  He pulls my plate closer to him and starts cutting my food into little pieces.

Is he a mind reader?  HOW does he do that? 

“Better not do any more damages to that wrist.  I heard that you play the piano, right?” He asks, eyes focused on the food.

“Yes, and some others too.” I admit.

“Wow, I wish I could do that.  What else do you play?”

“Harp, pipa, which is a Chinese lute, and Balinese Gamelan instruments.”

Robert speaks up, “Wow, you’ve got to play for us someday!”

“I…am not that good…” I force a smile.  “I am just a musician wannabe…”

Alice cuts in, “Oh come on, don’t listen to her.  She’s good.”

I roll my eyes, “Alice, you’ve never heard me play before.” 

“There,” Tom positions my plate carefully in front of me again, and now I can eat with just the fork.  I am also relieved that it interrupts that “play for them” suggestion.  I hate playing music in front of people.

“Thank you _so_ much,” I say just loudly enough for him to hear it.  I swear if there were not that many people around me, I would have been in tears.  I can’t stand it when people are super nice to me.  One time Jeff made dinner and he drew a heart with cream as a final touch for my soup.  When I saw it I broke down in tears because I was so moved.  It definitely does not sound much to anyone else, but at that moment I thought it was insanely sweet.  And now, Tom is being incredibly incredible.  I have the secret urge to just hold him tight and ask whoever, “Can I keep him?” 

_Oh Julia, snap out of it._

***

Annie wraps my wrist in bandages after the brunch and I must say, it does feel much better now.  Tom watched intently during that and he explained he is eager to learn anything and everything because someday it may come in handy.  Gosh, no wonder this guy got a double-first in Cambridge.  I graduated in the finest university in my home city but I feel a million times less smart in front of him.  I am sure even if we engage in a conversation on a subject that I have a major in, he would know more about it than I do.  Damn, even his brain must be physically bigger than mine, I bet.

Everything has quieted down a bit in the house.  Robert and Deborah have taken the two girls back home, Liam is having an afternoon nap in Tom’s old room, Alice and Annie are in the kitchen doing the dishes, and Uncle Jimmy, Tom and I are in the living room watching TV (I sit on the side this time – at least I can hold onto the armrest).  We are just sitting there in silence and then I see this advertisement on TV, promoting a bridal service company.  With my elbow resting on the armrest, I let my hand take the weight of my head.  I start thinking about my own wedding.  Jeff has told me a few days ago that he went and checked out the restaurant for our wedding reception.  I’ve gone online and looked at it and it looks pretty nice.  I can imagine him getting off a car, in his black suit, wearing the tie that I have just bought for him.  He is walking into that restaurant with his parents.  I get off another car which is parked behind theirs, and head towards the entrance as well.  When I walk in, I find that it directly leads you to an altar and an aisle with benches on both sides, all in white, and it is starting to be filled up by guests.  I look at Jeff and he is talking to his parents.  I can’t hear his voice.  In fact, I can’t hear anything but my own voice.  I ask him, “Babe, what’s going on?” He doesn’t look at me and he walks ahead with his parents, examining the site and getting ready.  It’s our wedding?  But isn’t it supposed to be a restaurant?  And it’s not our wedding date today, Jeff.  I take a look at what I am wearing – a hoodie and a pair of boyfriend jeans.  I haven’t done my hair or make-up.  “Jeff, hold on, I’m not ready!  I need to get dressed first, and where is my dress?”  Jeff keeps walking away.  “My hair…and my make-up…where is Talia?  I need her.  Jeff?”  He really can’t hear me.  I start to run towards him, “Jeff, wait up!  JEFF!”

I open my eyes wide in fear.  I can feel my heart beating like crazy.  It takes me a few seconds to realize that I have fallen asleep in front of the TV (what, AGAIN?) and I have a thin blanket cling to my side.  I have my head on the armrest and I feel like I am sitting on something warm.  I lift my head and am terrified to find that I am sitting on Tom’s thigh!  Literally.  Just at an unusual angle.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Tom gives me a weak smile when he feels me move.  He looks sleepy.

I look around, “Where is Uncle Jimmy?”

“Went upstairs to check his Facebook, he said he is expecting lots of birthday wishes from his friends,” Tom brushes his lips gently with his fingers, shaking his head gently and smiling at the same time.

“Oh…what time is it?”

“It’s almost 3,” he says after checking his watch.  “I’ll need to go soon though, Thor 2 starts shooting soon and I’ll need to meet up with the production team later today.”  Now that I’m more awake, I can tell that he definitely looks tired.  It’s confirmed when he adds, “Ah, it seems that we’re both suffering from jet-lag huh?  I really should have taken a nap when I could.  But you just didn’t let me.”

“Huh?” I am confused, and horrified – WHAT DID I DO?

Then I feel a slight tug under my hip.  Shit, I’ve been sleeping on the hem of his shirt and he is way too gentlemanly to wake me up for it.  I lift my hip up to let him have his shirt back.  “I’m so sorry, you could have just woken me up!”  He waves it off, says, “It’s quite alright, Miss Sorry.”  He stands up and stretches a bit, turns his head and asks, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I take a second to recall what he means, and nods, “Yes, see you tomorrow.”  One corner of his shirt is all wrinkled now because of me.

With that, he waves bye to me and goes around the house to say goodbye to everyone.  And he leaves.

There, my pre-wedding bucket list, done.

☑ Meet Tom Hiddleston


	7. My fellow Migardian

When I am back to my hotel room later that day, I can’t wait to tell Jeff all about Tom, and Alice, and the whole family.

Montreal is 5 hours behind London and so it’s still Saturday afternoon there.  He is online.

8:41 PM  **me** : hello hello <3  
 **Jean-** **Francois** : hi baby!!  
 **me** : hi handsome!  
how is my beautiful sweetie?

8:42 PM  **Jean-Francois** : definitely could be better…I miss you!!

8:43 PM  **me** : awwww me too!  
 **Jean-Francois** : So how was your day?  did you meet Loki?

8:44 PM  **me** : YES!!!  and he’s sooooooooo nice.  It’s funny that the first moment when i saw him he shook my hand and then pulled my wrist which i hurt earlier in the morning :P and he kept apologizing, and then we had full English breakfast for brunch and i met all these nice people from Alice’s family and these 2 little girls are just super adorable :D:D:D

8:45 PM  **Jean-Francois** : oh!  what happened to your wrist?  poor baby :(  
 **me** : just me being my clumsy self =3= i overslept this morning when the phone rang and then I jumped up, the bed was too bouncy and bounced me off the bed, and when i fell I tried to hold on to the wall…and then i think i hurt my wrist at that time :/ but Alice’s sister is a nurse and she checks that out for me and now it’s fine.  I have bandages around it now

8:46 PM **Jean-Francois** : be more careful okay?  don’t hurt yourself :(   
 **me** : okok i promise!  
 **Jean-Francois** : Apart from the brunch, what did you guys do?

8:47 PM and how was the food?

8:48 PM  **me** : looool  
you just loooovvveee eating don’t you <3 the food was AWESOME – they even made their own baked beans, it’s the best beans i’ve ever tasted!  and then let’s see…Tom also gave me a house tour, he told me that he used to visit his uncle and cousins when he was young, and then

8:49 PM  **Jean-Francois** : he sounds like a super nice guy  
 **me** : he is he is!!!  and he’s SO tall!    
hahaha he smells good too!

8:50 PM  **Jean-Francois** : how do you know?

8:51 PM  **me** : he took a photo of him and me together and i was quite close to him so I know :P  I forgot my camera this morning!!  but he was nice enough to help me take my food photos on his phone :D   
**Jean-Francois** : you and your food photos.  
 **me** : yes :)  **hard nod**!  
 **Jean-Francois** : you’re so silly but i love you silly  
 **me** : <3!!!!   
and I love you too!!!!!

8:52 PM  **Jean-Francois** : so and then what?   
**me** : eh?  
 **Jean-Francois** : you said “and then” but you didn’t continue

8:53 PM  **me** : ah!  yeah and then I fell asleep in front of the TV next to Tom, and i was sleeping with a corner of his shirt tucked beneath me but he was too polite to wake me to pull it out, can you believe it?  he was sleepy too from the jet lag but because of me he couldn’t take a nap :(  
 **Jean-Francois** : his manager is going to kill you  
 **me** : nooooo :(

8:54 PM  **Jean-Francois** : j/k sweetie *kiss*

8:55 PM  **me** : thank you ^3^ oh sweetie!!  Tom has invited me to go jogging with him tmr morning!  Alice will go too :) he’s really so nice!

8:57 PM  **Jean-Francois** : yeah that’s nice of him

8:58 PM  **me** : hehe  
when he asked me, Alice reminded him that he should ask my fiance first :P  
 **Jean-Francois** : thank you Alice :)

8:59 PM  **me** : :P  
so you are okay if i go?  
 **puppy dog** **eyes**  
 **Jean-Francois** : of course, enjoy yourself my love  
 **me** : kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss

9:00 PM  **Jean-Francois** : <3  
just remember who you’re going to marry okay ;)  
 **me** : who? XD

9:02 PM  **Jean-Francois** : :’(  
 **me** : just kidding sweetie, of course it’s YOU!!!  YOU YOU YOU YOU YOU!

9:04 PM  **Jean-Francois** : thank you <3  
oh did i tell you that i’ll have a suit fitting today?  
 **me** : oh yes?  
 **Jean-Francois** : yes :D i’m looking forward to our wedding my love.

9:08 PM  **me** : awwwww  
me too :)

9:09 PM  **Jean-Francois** : i’ll need to go soon, but can you show me what your hotel room looks like?  how small exactly is that bathroom?  
 **me** : okay, hang on

 

I am happy that the internet connection is good enough to support a webcam chat.  I show Jeff everything in the room and he comments that it’s really the smallest bathroom he’s ever seen, and also the room itself.  He also asks me that if we ever come to London together, don’t book this hotel because he is sure he’ll hurt himself in such a small bathroom.  Hmm, he’s right, I can’t picture him in this room in a million years.

Jeff needs to go to his fitting session and I need to go to bed.  We say our byes and I am already quite exhausted for a sleep.

I don’t know if people usually do it but I do a mental playback of the whole day whenever I have a fantastic day, or when I’ve met someone who has made a great impression.  I would think about all the events, what I said, and how someone looked like, etc.  I am thinking all about Tom and I really love the way his eyes twinkle whenever he laughs or when he talks about something he is passionate about.  He has the most contagious laugh too.  I can really forget all my troubles and just laugh with him.  Did I mention his voice?  And the way he talks?  Damn, the whole family talks in that way – most articulate, well-projected but not too loud, very clear, very…grammatically correct even.  They manage to sound high-class but not snobby.  Tom’s voice is just so…so…I don’t know the word – how do you describe when someone’s voice is like magic and it pulls you in?  Sometimes you may even find yourself paying too much attention to their voice instead of whatever they’re saying.  I’ve listened to his voice for a whole lot of times on YouTube, but listening to it in person is even a thousand times better than that.  On top of that, his hands always move like water – so elegant and smooth.  It may sound bad but his hands look like they have never needed to do any hard works since they exist.  They are also very expressive, Tom likes to make a lot of gestures when he speaks.

“Bzzzzzz”

“Bzzzzzz”

Huh?  Is there a bug in my bed? 

I hate insects and out of pure horror, I push and throw the blanket away from myself, letting out a half-scream.  Luckily it isn’t that loud or someone may really come and knock on my door to check if I’m okay.

Something hits the carpeted floor with a _thud_.  I get out of bed and check it out.

It’s my phone.  I have a new text message and it was vibrating.

**See you tomorrow, my so-called little fan.  Tom**

I feel like I have just been injected with pure caffeine.  I totally didn’t expect he would send me a text message…did he get my number from Alice?  I look at the time on my phone – it says 1:02am.  I have been daydreaming about Tom for that long?  Or have I been sleeping?  Why is Tom still awake at 1am?  Then I notice the timestamp of his message – it’s 10:23pm.  Stupid lagging when my phone is roaming.  Sometimes it lags, sometimes it doesn’t, you never know.  I once received a text message from a friend in San Francisco inviting me over for dinner (replying to a text that I sent him) ONE WHOLE WEEK after I went back home.  I was at work when I got that confusing text message before realizing it arrived super late.

Anyway, wow.  Absolutely wow.  He just texted me!  I feel like I want to hop like a little bunny happily.  But no I’m not going to do that.  I should go to bed and sleep so that I can get up early for the jog!

It still takes a little while for me to fall asleep.

***

Okay, this is _the_ morning.

I know Tom and I are friends now and I should not be nervous.  But why do these butterflies dance in my stomach again?  Is it because I am totally hopeless in sports?  Is it because I never jog due to my injured knee?  Or maybe it’s because of my rather, erm, noticeable breasts (it simply does NOT feel good to jog with them, I swear)?  And perhaps it’s because I haven’t packed for such occasion?  Is it because he invited me, a super star invited me, a mere mortal for a jog?

I find myself in the same position again – squatting in front of the suitcase to stare at the clothes, thinking about my options. 

ARGH!  I HAVE **NO** OPTION!  I haven’t packed for jogging because I never jog!  And who freakin’ jogs when they’re on vacation!  I only planned to keep doing my crunches and perhaps walk around a lot and control the amount I eat to keep my weight.  I end up wearing a plain white V-neck tee and … my PJ shorts.  It’s plain navy blue with a white stripe on each side (and not too short, thank god) so I guess it’s still better than floral shorts.  It’s either that or jeans or skirts or dresses.  My PJ shorts seem to be the most rational choice.

Shortly after 8, my hotel phone rings.  “Hello,” I answer quite formally.

“Good morning, darlin’,” it is Tom.  I guess he has his call forwarded to my room.  “Ready to jog?”

“Uh-huh, where should I meet up with you guys?”

“I’m right downstairs, just come down.” Tom replies cheerfully.  “We’ll go meet up with Alice.”

“Alright, I’ll be right down.” I put down the receiver gently.  I didn’t expect it’s Tom alone I’m seeing this morning.  Alice?  WHERE ARE YOU?

I carry a small bag on my shoulder across my body, the one I kept my wallet and passport in on the plane.  Then I store the netbook in the safe, and head out.

Tom is nowhere to be seen in the hotel lobby.  I quickly hand over my key to the main desk, and step out of the entrance.  I look around and see Tom is standing right next to the main door, having his sunglasses on, his hair loose, wearing a dark grey V-neck tee and black sports trousers.  He looks up the moment I start to walk down the steps and his face instantly breaks into a huge grin.  He steps forward with open arms and gives me cheek kisses.  If he isn’t holding my shoulders I think I would faint, I can feel little goose bumps on my arms!  _Get a hold of yourself!  You’re Julia the family friend now, not Julia the silly fangirl._

Tom releases his kung fu grips on my upper arms and beams at me, “I sent you a message but there’s no reply, so I tried calling.  Have you already warmed up or do you want to start with a walk first?”  I am trying to decide when… w _ait, did he just look at my boobs?  I’ve got stared at enough to pick these up by instinct (yeah even with his sunglasses on).  Oh, come ON, Tom!_   I tuck my thumb under the strap of my cross-body bag, which has no choice but to be placed between my breasts.  I try to lift it up when we’re standing here just so that it won’t look too weird.

“Let’s walk a bit to warm up,” I say casually.  “And yeah, my phone is roaming so sometimes there is serious lagging, I actually got a text from you at 1am last night.”

“Oh really!  I’m so sorry, I sent it at …” he looks up to think.  “10 something?”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.  I’m a night owl anyway and I can fall back asleep very easily.  So don’t be too scared of sending me messages, okay?” _Please don’t stop sending me texts, please don’t stop, nonono._

“Okay,” he grins.  “Well you got your Oyster card?  We can take the tube to Putney Bridge and we can walk to Alice’s to pick her up,” Tom suggests. 

I frown briefly and smile, “Aren’t we supposed to be exercising?”

“Well, it may feel a short way when you take the underground but it would take quiiite sometime to jog all the way there,” he explains.

I follow him to the station that is just around the corner.  It really makes me feel more comfortable with him because he is taking public transportation like we do.  He acts like a Midgardian after all!  He stays low profile though and keeps his sunglasses on during the trip.  I don’t know if he is doing it subconsciously but he keeps facing away from the fellow passengers.  Seeing him like that, I appreciate my anonymity more – ordinary people always want to stand out from the crowd, while the famous ones desperately wish to blend in.  The grass is always greener on the other side and I believe we all should learn to accept who we are and appreciate what we have.  I am now staring at Tom when he’s not looking, thinking how much I admire him.  He’s obviously trying his best to keep his feet on the ground and be nice to the others no matter how big he has become.  I decide right there and then that I would not remind him of his work when he is having his time off.  He deserves it.

It turns out that Alice makes it to the tube station to wait for us.  They say we can walk on the bridge and then we will jog along the river or even in the many parks around.

Both Alice and Tom are tall people with very tall legs (of course), and they can walk a lot faster than I do.  I try to keep up but I’m also glad at the same time that I am behind them so they won’t see my big butt in front of them.  We’re now walking towards Putney Bridge and Alice asks, “Hey do you know that Prince Harry was pulled over on this bridge not long ago?”

“Oh?  I know he got pulled over when he was on a motorbike with a girl right?  But I don’t know it was here,” I look at the bridge differently now.  “It’s crazy, it always feels like all these things happen in another world but wow, the Prince was here!” _Yeah, just like you are jogging with Tom Hiddleston now, Julia.  Isn’t that crazy?_

We start jogging not long after that and from time to time, Tom would look behind and check if I’m still there.  He would ask Alice to slow down when he sees I’m quite far behind.  Sometimes he would just slow down to a halt and look at me happily until I catch up.  (And I would definitely try NOT to run when he’s doing that, please don’t look at me – I’m too conscious of how much my boobs jiggle when I run!  I’d pretend to try to catch my breath and just walk whenever he looks, and I guess that makes me look even more unsporty than I actually am.)

I gotta say, he _is_ a touchy-feely kinda guy.  He always likes giving me half-hugs and holding my neck (like erm, holding my head close to his chest) to give me encouragement.  He has quite a weak sense of physical personal space – he even offers his water to me when he sees that I don’t have any.  I don’t want to make a big deal out of it because I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, even though I am totally, completely, over-the-top uncomfortable to drink from the same bottle that his lips JUST touched.

After an hour and a half or so, Tom needs to leave for work stuff.  He kisses my cheeks (again!) for goodbye and says something like, “Let’s do this again sometimes soon” before he leaves.

Alice takes me to a local café for a light pro-sport reward snack (but I don’t have any because, what’s the point in jogging when you just gain back the calories you just burned!  I have an iced tea instead).  She’s looking at me in a funny way. 

“What,” I narrow my eyes at her doubtfully.

“What what,” she replies.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Alice pauses for 2 seconds, and says, “Tom likes you.”  She quickly adds, “I can tell that he now considers you as one of his ‘little friends’ – people he treats as if they were his baby brothers or sisters.”

I feel disappointed but relieved at the same time, to be honest.

“I hope you’re not uncomfortable with him?  I mean, now you can see what I meant by saying he’s just my cousin, not a big movie star to me.  You can see that side of him.  And he is very affectionate to all his loved ones,” Alice smiles, proudly.

“Yes, and I really like him too.  He’s such a good person!  Thanks for your introduction, I think I’ve got myself a good friend.” I reach out my hand for a handshake, which Alice takes with a giggle.

“Welcome to the family,” Alice nods as she shakes my hand warmly.


	8. Just Friends

For the next two days, Alice has taken the days off from work to keep me company.  We do all these touristy stuff and I re-visit my favorite place – the National Gallery.   Only this time I finally have the time to check out the National Portrait Gallery too and I’m so glad about it.  I am the type of person who would rather not eat and save money for the admission fee to museums and galleries…well, at least that’s the case when I’m in other countries.  I am in heaven when I can just walk in for free for all these world-renowned museums in London.  I did a double major in Music and Fine Arts in university and that’s why I am super excited every time when I can see some famous artworks in person.  It can absolutely NOT be compared to images we see in the books or on TV.

Mr. Sorry is busy working but he keeps sending me texts several times a day (I don’t want to think about my roaming phone bill when I’m home):

**“Hope you’re enjoying your day!  Tom”**

**“How is your wrist?  Tom”**

**“Oh I hope she has taken you to a good one.  Remember to take your food photo!  Tom”**

**“Wish I were there!  Save some pudding for me please.  T”**

**“Fine, but you need to jog some more now.  (evil laugh)  Tom”**

I am sitting at a table in a corner of a local pub with Alice for something to drink after our lovely dinner.  These two days have been awesome and I am really happy that I have a local tour guide to show me all the local spots.  As a single traveling girl, I am cautious of my safety so I often try to stick to places with a lot of people or at least places with good reputations in the guidebook. 

My cell phone vibrates again and I pick it up with a smile to check it, expecting another text from Tom.  I’m happy that there doesn’t seem to be any lagging these 2 days.

“Tom AGAIN?” Alice raises her eyebrows at my phone, just when hers beeps, signaling an incoming text. 

 **“SOOOOO DELICIOUS!  YUMMMM.  Tom”** What, Tom?  What is delicious?

“Tsk,” Alice rolls her eyes before showing me what’s on her screen – I see broken cake-ish stuff…with some cream…on a little white plate.

“What’s that?” I frown at Alice.

She scrolls down the screen, and reads, **“Show this to Julia.  Apple crumble with custard.  Haha.”**   She reads the “haha” in a super flat, robotic tone.  “What’s he up to?”

I chuckle, “He’s trying to make me jealous because he couldn’t have the dessert we had.”  I start typing a reply to him, **“NOT jealous at all.  Enjoy your 3 extra hours running.  HAHA.”** I shove my phone back into my bag, take out my wallet, and look up at Alice, “Ready to go?”

Alice and I hug goodbye that night because we may not have the chance to meet up for the following days of the week before Saturday, since she’ll need to go back to work. 

“What are you going to do?” Alice asks me. 

I shrug, “I don’t know…I’ll see.  There are still a lot of places I haven’t been to yet.”

“Alright, girlie, good night.  Take care and I’ll see you later,” Alice gives me a quick cheek kiss.

I made it back to the hotel room safe and sound, being thankful once again that my hotel is so close to the tube station.  I retrieve the key from the front desk – I keep wondering how they recognize the guests because apparently those people work in shifts, and it’s a different person who I gave my key to this morning when I went out.  And now all I need to do is just to tell that man my room number and then he gives the key to me without any questions.  That doesn’t feel very secure.  I shrug the thought off, reassuring myself that it’s my 3rd time staying here so everything should be okay.

I go up to my room as usual, get my netbook out of the safe and turn it on.  I also check my phone to see if there is any new message from Tom.  My heart sinks when I find out there is none.  _Perhaps he’s gone running?_  I can’t help but wonder.  Well, that would serve him right.  I shake my head and giggle at this silly thought.  He is almost as silly as I am and I really like it.  Before I met him, I was a little intimidated by him because he seems so intelligent and he is always quoting Shakespeare and everything…I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to understand him or we could never find any common topics to talk about.  But it turns out that he is a playful one and I _can_ understand him.  Sometimes I still don’t get some of his references but oh well, I’m a foreigner so I guess that gives me a free pass.

Having waited for me to go online, Jeff is very excited when he sees me logging on.

9:42 PM **Jean-** **Francois** : hi my beautiful fiancée <3!!!!!  
 **me** : hi my sweet <3  
how are you?

9:43 PM  **Jean-Francois** : doing well, can’t wait until you’re here!

9:44 PM  **me** : me too :)  
 **Jean-Francois** : have you been having fun with Alice?

9:45 PM  **me** : oh yes, i went to the national gallery again…you know me :) and it’s been quite relaxing, we had a nice Italian dinner and then we went to a pub, I had some apple cider :D

9:46 PM  **Jean-Francois** : I want some too~~  
 **me** : we can have some again in Mtl, let’s go to one of those irish pubs together alright?  
 **Jean-Francois** : yes please <3  
 **me** : hehe

9:47 PM **Jean-Francois** : i’m already planning so many things for us to do together when you fly here :D there’ll be a pop art exhibition in the fine arts museum and i’m sure you’ll like it!   
 **me** : that’s so nice of you my baby <3  
 **Jean-Francois** : i’m always thinking about you, you know

9:48 PM  **me** : me too :)  i’m thinking about you too, i always think about you when i eat :P

9:49 PM  **Jean-Francois** : >3<  
 **me** : you like food --> so when I eat --> food --> Jeff!     
simple logic!

9:50 PM  **Jean-Francois** : :(   
**me** : i still love you :P  
 **Jean-Francois** : i love you too, so much :)

9:51 PM  **me** : sweetie i’m feeling a bit sleepy, i’d go to bed now, ttyl okay?  
 **Jean-Francois** : okay, bonne nuit <3  sweet dreams!  
 **me** : bonne nuit :)

Hm.

What is this feeling in my heart?

Something’s wrong…I read our conversation again, and I saw I wrote:

“I always think about you when I eat”.

I bite my lip, and feel the air freeze around me.  What are you doing, Julia?  You _used to_ always think about Jeff when you see nice food.  And these two days?  You text Tom when you see nice desserts.  And he texts you back when he sees some too.  He must be only being friendly but you think about him too often, Julia, this is not right.  Control your heart.  This is only a celeb crush.

I should have sounded more excited.  I should have talked to him for longer.  He’s been waiting for me and I only told him that I need to go to sleep.  I feel like hitting my head against the wall.  I love Jeff I love Jeff I love Jeff I LOVE JEFF!!!  I immediately log back on. 

But he’s already offline.  He really was online just for me.

_Be ashamed of yourself, Julia._

“Bzzzzzz.” I hear a muffled buzz from inside my bag, and I went to fish my phone out.  Of course, it’s Tom.  His texts always make me feel excited but now I’m also feeling a hint of guilt.  I read the text straightaway:

I know you don’t tweet but check mine. :)  Tom

I type in “tom hiddleston twitter” on google and get linked to his twitter page. 

And there it is.

I’m looking at my own face, and his.  That photo we took together at the birthday brunch when we kind of pressed our cheeks together.  It’s captioned, “My new ‘fran’ (friend + fan).” Looking at the photo, I feel quite proud of myself and I am smiling at the screen.  It actually makes my heart feel warm too and my head feels clearer – yes, I’m his friend.  And nothing more.  Thank you, Tom.

I forward the link to Jeff to let him see my new friend.  And to type him a short but sweet email to let him know that I am thinking about him and I love him.  I am thankful to have so many people around me who actually do care about me and love me back.

***

Not having to meet anyone for this day, I take my time to laze around in bed.  I don’t care if my hair has a strange parting or that I haven’t brushed my teeth or I am wrapping my arms around the other pillow as if it’s a stuffed toy.  Of course I have my netbook as my companion.  I turn it on the moment when I am awake enough.  I support myself up on my elbows and lie on my stomach, also making sure the blanket is covering me from waist down to my toes to keep me warm.

The first thing I see is a reply from Jeff:

_Hello my dear,_

_Just want to say good morning to you when you read this, and you know I’m dreaming of you right now when I’m sleeping.  Thanks for sending me the photo and he does seem to be a nice guy!  I’m very happy that you’re having a good time over there in London, I wish I were there with you.  We really should go there together someday._

_Btw baby, I know I may sound a bit silly but can you keep some distance from Tom?  I’d admit that I AM feeling a tad little bit jealous to see that he can be so close to you while I am so far away.  I miss you dearly.  I mean, he is obviously an attractive man and well, I mean, I’m probably just writing nonsense now because I know you will not do anything to hurt me.  I trust you.  But please? :) Like, next time when you take a picture with him can you kind of erm…keep some distance?_

_I love you!_

_JF_

My first reaction after reading the email is going “AWWWWW…”.  And then I read the email again and somehow I have mixed feelings inside.  I mean, this is so stupid.  There is nothing going on and why does he need to be jealous?  I remember he once said that saying “I trust you” is actually a sign of mistrust because if you really trust someone, you don’t need to say it.  It’s just to put pressure on someone as if saying, “I’m watching you.  Feel guilty if you do something wrong.”  I _AM_ already aware that Tom is just a friend and there is nothing more.  I keep telling myself that and you don’t need to remind me, Jeff.  Have some faith in me, c’mon!  You know I hate it when I’m being told what to do.

I don’t know what to write to reply him just yet so I think I’d let that sit there for a while when I collect my thoughts.  I click “inbox” again to check other mails.  Since Jeff’s email is on the top, I saw and opened it first.  I almost didn’t see Tom’s message buried somewhere between a daily recipe email and a tumblr notification.  _Oh, Tom.  Why are you in my life?_ The email’s subject is just a single “hey” so I don’t know what I should expect until I open it:

_Hey Miss Sorry, don’t want to wake you up so I didn’t text you.  Let me know when you’re up :)_

_Tom_

Okay this doesn’t tell me anything either.  I look at the time and it says 8:07am.  I guess Tom should be up.  I am not awake enough for a phone conversation yet so I text him.

**Yo I’m up, whassup?  Just saw your msg.**

I hope by typing in a silly way, I can keep my distance from him?  I don’t know.  It’s early in the morning.  I don’t know what I’m thinking.

There is no reply after 5 minutes.  So I type a reply by email too.  I just hit “send” when my phone buzzes:

**What’s with the yo whassup talk :P Anyway get prepared, it’ll be my turn to show you around today.  T**

Eh?????

My eyes widen.  My heart stops.  I totally didn’t see this one coming. 

Tom didn’t say when we will go out so I’d better get prepared as soon as possible.  I let my netbook stay on in case there are other incoming emails or messages from Tom and I put my phone where I can see it.  So…what should I wear?  I’m starting to run out of clean clothes after these few days and when I packed, I packed with “I’ll probably meet Tom Hiddleston” in mind so I intend to look sweet and cute or subtly sexy to get his attention but I obviously didn’t think of the “OMG let’s just stay friends” part.  Alright, no matter what I wear, I’m going to pair it with my jeans and sneakers.  Play it casual, play the “yo whassup”.  I look at myself in the mirror, and I hope my white allover lace top and my baby pink open cardigan sweater are not ruining my I-don’t-want-you-to-find-me-cute-or-sweet-or-pretty look.

I finish getting ready but there’s still nothing from Tom.  I am basically just pacing back and forth, sitting down and standing back up.  So I text him back:

**What time will we meet?  I’m ready.**

My hotel phone rings after 2 minutes.  I pick the receiver up, expecting Tom, “Hi!”

“Good morning, front desk calling.”

“Yes?”

“There’s a Mr. Hiddleston asking for you, shall I send him up?”

I take a quick look at my room, “Ahh…no, it’s okay.  Please tell him I’ll be right down.”

“Okay.”

Tom is sitting in one of the armchairs in the small lobby when I walk out of the elevator.  He looks up when he hears the elevator door open.  It only takes him two steps to reach me and plant two kisses on my cheeks.  After a tight hug, he offers his arm for me to hold on to – I quickly give my key to the receptionist and return to Tom’s side – and we exit the hotel.

“So little one, before our tour starts, are there any special requests?  Any places you’d like to go to or anything that you’d want to do?” He looks down with a happy, teethy grin.  Being this close to him, I find myself secretly smelling him again…he smells so good!

“Anything?”  He asks again when there is no response from me.  We are just walking on the pavement aimlessly, arm in arm.

“Oh,” My brain finally starts working again.  “There are still some places I haven’t been to yet, even though they’re some of the must-goes.  I’ve walked by the Westminster Abbey and The London Eye, but I’ve never been inside or gone on the wheel.  Ah, also the St Paul’s Cathedral.”

“Okay,” Tom puts his other hand on my hand that is holding his arm and pats gently.  “We’ll see all those today then!”  He sounds so excited that it almost sounds as if it’s his sightseeing tour in London too.


	9. Happy Day

With his upper arm occasionally bumping into my ear while we are walking arm in arm, I keep looking up and staring at the huge smile that seems to have stuck on his face.

“What,” he wrinkles his forehead at me.  “Why the creepy stare?”

I playfully punch his arm with my free hand, “I’m not being creepy!”

“Yes you are,” he makes his own version of a creepy wide-eyed face, before he puts on his sunglasses that were previously hung from the middle of his shirt.

“I don’t look like that!” I giggle, retrieving my arm from his to take the Oyster card from my bag.  “I was just thinking how happy you are today.”

Tom lowers his sunglasses a little bit to show his eyes, “Am I?”

He pushes the glasses back to their original position.  “Well, it’s my day off today and I get to be a tourist in my hometown, accompanied by a lovely lady.  How can I not be happy?”

There is a sudden wave of warmth I feel inside my heart.  _Friend, Julia, this is a friend.  Okay a good-looking friend.  Still, a friend.  FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND._   I try to hypnotize myself by chanting as hard as I can in my head.  I only manage to respond with a smile.

“My arm is feeling a little cold,” Tom holds his bent arm out, does the puppy dog eyes to me again like he did when he asked me out for a jog.  I happily oblige, but I am also glad when we are on the train, I have the excuse to have my hand back to hold onto the bar.  The peak hour traffic has subsided but there are still a number of passengers on the train so there are no vacant seats.  Tom and I stand next to one of the doors near the end of a carriage.  It is often quite difficult to chat on the train because of the noise, and it would be rude to yell over it.  We stand facing each other but I keep looking at everything and everyone but Tom, especially I can see his eyes directly now that he’s taken his shades off when we’re inside the carriage.  We are a bit too close for my liking…I mean, yeah of course my secret fangirl self would probably kill for this, but my someone’s-bride-to-be self reminds me of what Jeff wrote.  I wish the train ride would be over soon but the more I think about it, the more slowly time goes.

The doors open at a station and it is obviously a busy one.  I try to step aside to let people exit and enter but suddenly a big warm hand is on my waist stopping me from moving.  Tom sees that someone is right behind me and he stops me from stepping on that poor guy’s feet.  I briefly look up at Tom and make a quick “oops!” face, and of course, just stay where I am since I am a bit too conscious to move now.  Tom doesn’t let go of me though, instead, he snakes his arm further around my waist and pulls me closer protectively when the woman standing next to him has moved away.  I swear I am screaming inside.  _Why do you do this, Tom?  Can you be not as nice?  I can deal with mean and rude people, but seriously, I don’t know what to do with you._

He doesn’t speak until it is almost our station.  I haven’t been paying attention at all to where we are going and I don’t even know which of the attractions we are going to visit first.  I am also ashamed to say that since I am with a local, I haven’t been bothered to study the map and planned my routes.  I am only following Tom.  I can feel his fingers gently squeezing me twice on my waist so I look up at him.  He lean s down and whispers just loudly enough for me to hear, “We get off at the next one.” 

I nod “okay”, wishing…both 1) time froze, 2) we could get off the train as soon as possible.  I don’t even know how I feel anymore.  I want to be with him but I don’t want to “want to be with him”.  It’s starting to bother me a lot and I exhale in relief when we finally step off from the train.  He lets go of my waist at last so that we can walk better among the crowd.  Ah, we got off at Blackfriars.  I follow Tom to an exit; it’s not that difficult to find him in a crowd because you can easily keep your eyes on that tall guy with curly hair.  He pauses for a moment when we’re standing on the pavement, and says to himself, “I am hungry.”

He turns to me, “Are you?”

I didn’t have breakfast this morning, in fact.  “Yes,” I reply quietly, letting him think in peace.

“Do you mind walking for a bit?  I know this place but it’d take around 10 minutes to get there, maybe less, but I don’t want to rush,” Tom asks.

“Yeah I can walk, 10 minutes is nothing,” I smile politely, waiting for him to show me which way to go.  He runs his hand along his jawline and comes up with a route to the breakfast place.  “Okay, that way,” he starts walking with his hands buried in his pockets.  I follow him like a duckling walking behind its mother.  I guess it’s because he is trying to remember how to get to the restaurant, he is walking in his usual speed – with his long legs, it means whenever he takes one step, I need to take two.  I really need to make an effort to keep up.  Despite this, I feel more at ease than I was on the train because this is simpler.  I know who we are.  I have a clearer conscience too because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything that Jeff wouldn’t like.

It doesn’t take that long for Tom to notice that he is walking too fast for me.  He turns back and checks how I am doing and when he realizes I am about 5 steps away, he pulls a semi-goldfish face and mouths, “Sorry.”  I can’t tell what his expression is because his eyes are behind his shades again. 

Then he just stands there, and offers his hand to me.

For what?

What should I do with his hand?  My first thought is – should I hang my purse on it?  (I told you, I don’t know what I’m thinking…) I know the most sensible thing to do is to take his hand but WHY SHOULD I TAKE HIS HAND?  Isn’t it a bit too…intimate?  I can’t hold his hand!  I have 3 more steps to come up with something…2…1. 

I reach my hand out as if I’m going to shake his hand, pull his hand down and wrap my arm around his instead.  Okay.  That goes smoothly.  He takes it well even though I kind of “reject” his offer or perhaps he is just really talented at acting.  Or maybe I simply thought too much.

I try to walk as fast as my feet allow me because I know it’d feel rather uncomfortable for Tom to walk slowly with me, especially we’re now walking arm in arm again.  I only loosely place my hand in the hole his arm creates so that we won’t keep bumping into each other.  And I won’t keep pressing my breasts against his arm either.  Tom is happily telling me how pleased he is to have a relaxing day like this and how he hasn’t had a real holiday for a long time.  If I need to compare Tom with someone at this moment, I would compare him with Jack Dawson when he was yelling “I’m the king of the world!” on Titanic – so confident, hopeful, happy, and enjoying his life.  I like this Tom.

Soon we arrive at the restaurant – its glass doors immediately leads us into a rectangular dining place with hardwood floor and white tables and chairs.  The decorations are all very simple yet stylish.  The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and bacon and fresh toast fills the air, which wakes my stomach up and it starts protesting for the lack of food since I got up.  Tom asks for a table towards the end that is behind a pillar but sits next to the window.  I take my sweater off and I can tell Tom is looking again, but I don’t think too much of it because hell, if _he_ takes his jacket off or something, I would look too.

By the way, if you think sitting next to Tom is difficult, try sitting right opposite him.  I need to press my legs together with my knees touching the table leg (it is a one-legged table), while his are spread widely apart as he always does.  I can’t cross my legs or move that much because I am literally trapped between his long legs.  Trapped.  Between.  His.  Legs.  _Shit, think of something else.  Menu!  Read menu._

Okay…I have a love-hate relationship with menu that comes only in words.  I mean, they look really classy and nice, but in the city where I am from, the menus always come with eye-catching photos of the food and they are super appetizing to look at.  I am not missing home yet though.  I am sitting right across from Tom Hiddleston and there is nowhere in the world I would rather be right now.

“Would you like something to drink?” A young man interrupts my intense menu reading.

“Erm,” I haven’t thought about it yet and I am looking at Tom to see if he can buy me two more seconds. 

“I’d like some Earl Grey,” he smiles at me.  “Would you like to have the same?”

“Oh yes, please” I grin.  He remembers my favorite tea.

We keep reading the menu after the waiter is gone.  I ask Tom questions about food that I don’t know and he always gives me very detailed descriptions of them (because he is genetically not able to give short answers) so in the end I stop asking him questions and settle with a yogurt with some apples and honey roast oats.  It’s not that I don’t like to listen to him talk, but my stomach is starting to growl.  I try to recall how much I have in my wallet because a simple yogurt costs almost £6 in this restaurant, and I then decide I should use my credit card whenever I can.  Tom orders a bigger plate of bacon, poached eggs and muffin.

We keep our conversation casual and light over breakfast, but at one point he suddenly looks at me and asks, “So what is it like to decide that you want to marry someone?”

 _That’s an interesting question._   I play with my yogurt with the spoon, and stare at it when I’m thinking of an answer.  The truth is, I don’t really know.  “Well,” I look up and find myself gazing into his eyes, “Who can ever be that sure?  If you’re happy with someone and if it feels right, then go for it.  It shouldn’t be that complicated.”  I shrug.

He asks again, “Then how can you tell the difference between only wanting to be with someone and wanting to be with them for the rest of your life?”

 _Where do all these questions come from?_   I chuckle and ask, “Wait, Tom, do you have a girl you want to propose to or something?”

He looks away and forces a smile, “I don’t have that luck yet.” 

Feeling that he still wants an answer to his question, I resume, without the playful tone this time, “I don’t know, Tom.  Sometimes I think it’s all about timing.”  His eyes find mine again, eagerly asking me to explain.  “Imagine someone actually met his or her ‘the one’ when they’re still teenagers, but they wouldn’t get married because of their financial situation or they’re simply too young, and then they may just move on with their life and later settle with someone else who may not be as compatible with them; or, on the other hand, you can imagine people in their late twenties or in their thirties, who want to start a family.  Especially for women, if we want to have children we’ll need to act fast.  For people around that age, they may choose to marry whoever they are with during that decade simply because they are running out of time.  So basically, what I believe is, it’s not strictly about how you feel or who you are with, but rather, the timing of things.” I scoop a spoonful of yogurt and oats and put it into my mouth.

Tom freezes and processes what I’ve just said, and finally goes, “Hmm.”  I can’t read his face.  However, behind this manly face, I can easily see a little boy inside.

***

After our breakfast we start our walk to St Paul’s Cathedral.  Tom is acting normal again after that strange conversation, he’s back to his happy self and even starts flooding me with the history and fun facts of the cathedral.  I have visited Rideau Hall in Ottawa before, where I have seen the trees that Prince Charles and Princess Diana planted.  And now I get to see the place where they got married.  Again, I have that feeling of two worlds clashing – a world that always felt so far away, and my own world.  I have seen the TV footage of Charles and Diana’s wedding but it always feels like some historical video to me.  It’s amazing how it only takes one week for me to really know there is only one world, that famous people also breathe the same air as we do, live on the same planet, and they are just, after all, humans.

We climb all 528 steps to the top of the Golden Gallery and are treated with the panoramic view of London.  I can recognize the Tate Modern from here, being a fan of modern art. 

“Look, that’s Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre!”  Tom yells excitedly, pointing at something near to the Tate Modern.

I don’t think I’ve ever been to the Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre and due to my ignorance and under-preparation, I do not even know what it looks like.  “Which one?” I narrow my eyes at the direction Tom is pointing at, as if that would help me recognize the building.

“The white round one right next to Tate Modern,” he keeps pointing.  I immediately know which one he’s talking about since it is quite a distinctive building, and say, “Uh, yes.”  Despite it, Tom wants to make sure I know which one it is.  He puts his head extremely close to mine and try to hold my finger and point accurately from my angle of sight.  My hand feels warm and protected in his grip, and I am desperately trying to distract myself when he speaks directly into my ear, “There, that…that one, you see?” 

“Yes!  I do!” I try to mirror his excitement, in an attempt of masking my blushing cheeks.

“I LOVE Shakespeare,” sighs Tom, releasing my hand and stepping back a bit.

“Yes I know,” I smirk. 

For a split second he looks startled but then he quickly recovers, realizing it’s obvious why I’d know that.  “Have you ever been there?”

I grin in embarrassment and shake my head.

“My guess is that you have been there before but didn’t go inside?”

I nod.

Tom stares at me in mock horror, “NOOOOOO…that’s criminal!  We _must_ go now!  You’re gonna LOVE it!” 

And when he said now, he really meant now.  We take the stairs to go back down and leave the cathedral.  From the direction he is walking, I can tell that we will cross the Millennium Bridge.  He is as thrilled as a kid on his birthday.  It makes him look even more so when he sees an ice-cream truck – no one can ever fake a huge grin like that.  Without warning, he grabs my hand and pulls me towards it with great anticipation.  At the moment when our hands touch, I swear time stops for a second.  Tom must have felt it too because he froze for half a second when he first held my hand, before squeezing it more firmly and leads me to the van.  I stumble along behind him with my hand in his.

Oh dear, how come this feels more and more like a date?


	10. Mixed Signals

His grip is protective yet gentle – he holds me just tightly enough not to let my hand slip away, but doesn’t hurt me.  It is challenging to think of which ice-cream flavor I want because I don’t think my brain is functioning anymore, all my attention is on my hand.  I mean, _our_ hands.  I don’t know what to do!  I don’t want to encourage him by squeezing back, but it’d be quite rude to yank my hand out of his.  I somewhat just relax it and let Tom hold it.  Perhaps it’s his way to express fondness to close friends? 

He manages to get both our ice-cream without releasing my poor little confused hand.  And so here we are, walking side by side, hand in hand.  I don’t know if it’s the ice-cream that has calmed him down, or is it that he wants to savor this moment as much as I do, or he wants to make sure we have enough time to finish our ice-cream before reaching the Theatre, now we seem to be having a leisurely stroll on the Millennium Bridge.  The weather is nice – the sky is grey but at least it’s not raining.  It is windy, however, and I am struggling to shake my hair away from my face so that I can eat my ice-cream even though it seems that there is no way I can succeed.  If I had my another hand free, I would have just kept my hair away by shifting it over to one side of my neck.  But obviously I can’t do it.  It must have amused Tom when he sees me because he throws his head back and goes “ehehehehehehe!” He loosens my hand because of his laugh and right then I take my chance to have my hand back and wipe my hair away from my sticky lips.  To my surprise, when my hair is out of my eyes, I see him look at me gently and tries to help me by pushing my hair back lightly and by doing so, he sweeps his fingers along my temple towards the back of my ear.  It leaves a burnt trail where he’s touched me in spite of the ice-cream I’m having and the wind that is blowing around us.  I dare not look at him and just giggle everything off, turn on my heel and start walking again, now with a hand holding my hair on the opposite side away from the half-finished ice-cream.

Tom catches up and walks on the side where he can see my face instead of my bunch of hair.  Somehow we walk in silence until we reach the Globe, where he becomes animated all over again – you can tell it pretty easily because he starts to talk non-stop with gestures and tons of facial expressions, he has that raised-eyebrows and open face look on him.  We get the tickets for the exhibition and the tour, but since the tour begins every 30 minutes, and it seems that one has just left, Tom decides to act as my personal tour guide since he knows a lot of that place.

I try to pay attention to what he says but can’t – his voice itself is too distracting especially when he is being enthusiastic about something.  AND I am a bit too focused on staring at his face, of how happy he is and how thrilled he is to talk about something he is passionate about.  He is still talking about Shakespeare and the background of the place (I…guess.) when we have a light afternoon tea at the Swan Bar, which offers an unrivaled view of River Thames and the surrounding sceneries.  He only pauses momentarily when I take photos of the beautiful dainty cakes and sandwiches placed on cute, delicate, floral china, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the “sacred” moments of me and my food photos.  I don’t think he even realizes that he has been doing all the talking since we have been here, which is fine with me because it’s a pleasure itself to listen to him talk.

It is soon late afternoon and we walk along the river to go to the London Eye, our next stop.  I try to keep my hands occupied during our way there just so that Tom won’t have the chance to hold them or anything, but it does not seem like he intends to anyway.  We just walk side by side, chatting idly and enjoying the view, like normal friends do.  So have I been the one who is thinking too much and imagining things?  He seems to be totally at ease and relishing the day though.

It is as crowded as it always is and we go to the ticket office to check out our options.  I remember why I didn’t go on the wheel when I was here before – even the cheapest standard ticket feels a bit too expensive for a 30-minute ride on a Ferris wheel.  I mean, I’m sure the view is awesome but coming from a metropolitan city, I am very used to heights and views from high above.  When I look up at Tom, I can see him frowning at the different tickets in concentration while brushing his hand up and down his neck.

“You’ve never been on there before, have you?” He asks, his eyes still fixed on “Tickets & Prices”.

“No,” I confess.  “I thought it was a bit too pricey for a Ferris wheel ride.”  I instantly feel a bit cheap to complain about something being too expensive, especially when it is not _that_ much, in front of a person a whole lot richer than I am.

“Yeah it is,” Tom agrees.

_What?_

He turns to me and gives me the most heartwarming smile, “I have never been on there either, but let’s check out what all the fuss is about, shall we?”

“Okay,” I answer with a smile, still feeling really surprised inside that he would agree with me on matters related to money, considering our very different background.

I am about to take out my wallet and ask for the cheapest standard tickets when Tom softly presses down my hands and offers, “Nonono, it’s going to be my treat.”

“But – “ I protest.

He holds up his hand and shakes his head lightly, “I insist.”

He doesn’t lift his hand until I give in and mutter, “Erm, thank you.” Then he turns his attention to the ticket officer.

My eyes widen when I hear him ask for information about a private capsule.  I guess he wants to stay away from the crowd because being trapped inside a capsule for 30 minute wouldn’t be easy if there are some over-enthusiastic fans.  My eyes widen even more when I hear how much that would cost.  Since normal private capsules would require at least 3 passengers, our only option is the Cupid’s Capsule, which is a private capsule for 2 people.  And as you can guess from the name itself, it’s designed especially for two on a romantic trip on the London Eye.  I tug at Tom’s sleeve uncertainly, bite my lower lip and frown at him.  He wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes to assure me it’s okay.  He smiles as he pays for the capsule.

With the price he just paid, we can jump the queue, enjoy priority boarding and have our own host/waiter.  We have a bottle of champagne and a super cute box of pink truffles (which Tom can’t stop nibbling on once he gets his hands on it).  After enjoying the little snacks and with the champagne flutes still in our hands, we get up and take in the scenery more closely.  The wheel is turning so steadily that I can barely feel it move, but I can see the crowds in the other capsules and instantly feel very privileged to have our own instead.  I have to admit it, the views are breathtaking.  The guide points out some of the buildings and soon withdraws to the background after a moment since Tom joins in and tells me the buildings and landmarks we are looking at.  It’s a pity that we cannot really see the Windsor castle though, but we do spot the Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, Greenwich, just to name a few.  Tom even points Earl’s Court to me and excitedly exclaims, “Hey that’s where you are staying!”  It’s crazy how his eyes always smile with his lips.  Every single time.

The initial excitement gradually subsides and now we are just standing there, looking around, our hands resting on the bar handles.

I am staring at the Big Ben and zoning out as the sun starts to set when soundlessly, I feel Tom moving behind me.  I can feel his hot breath on the back of my head and instinctively, I pull myself closer to the glass until my stomach is pressed against the metal bar.  I blink hard and tell myself, _I need to keep my distance from him_.  He puts his hands on the bar on either side of me, once again trapping me – this time, between his arms.  He is not really touching me but I am fully aware of each time when his sleeves brush against my sweater.  I don’t know what game he is playing but I try to, very innocently, keep telling myself that he’s only being friendly.  He casually points out this and that for me… _did he just pause and smell my hair?_  I shake the crazy thought off and hastily come up with a lame excuse of wanting another piece of truffle – Tom hurries and strides towards the bench to retrieve the box and hands it to me.  I giggle as I open the box to see there is only one piece left because he’s eaten a lot.  He makes a quiet inward gasp (clearly not realizing he has eaten so many truffles himself) and wants to say something but I stop him, “No, Mr. Sorry.  Don’t say anything.”

He blinks and catches on to what I was about to say and laughs until his back bent backward. 

“Here,” I pick the truffle up and hand it to him.  “You can have it.”

“Oh nono, I’ve had enough.  This is yours.”

I keep pushing it towards him firmly with a smile, while trying to imitate his tone earlier, “I insist.”

He shakes his head with his hands resting on his waist, and finally says, “Okay, only because you insist.”

I put the truffle on his reached-out palm and tease, “Yeah right, as if you didn’t like it.”

He wrinkles his nose at me as he savors the chocolate in his mouth, letting it melt and fully enjoying the last piece from the box.

This all feels too much like a dream, like an “I won a contest and could go on a date with a star for a day” that kind of dream, and at any second someone from the crew would come up to me and thank me for joining and then throw me back to the real world.  Gosh, yes.  I have the real world to get back to.  I have a fiancé to get back to.  My own wedding is in 2 weeks and a half.  And who knows, I’ve only known Tom for a few days and he may be this guy who is very good at flirting and playing with women’s heart.  Who knows?  _You yourself are the only one who is making a big deal out of nothing._

Finally we are back on the ground and I follow him out of the capsule.  I wrap my open sweater around myself and keep my arms crossed as I walk – I don’t know why but I’m feeling a bit protective of my own self.  Tom doesn’t try to hold my hand or touch me.  He seems to have recovered and acts as his usual friendly self again.  Argh, all these mixed signals are driving me crazy!  What does he want?  What is he playing at?  They shouldn’t matter though.  They shouldn’t.  They really, really shouldn’t.

“Fancy going to a pub to have dinner?  Or do you have anywhere in mind you’d like to go?” Tom smiles at me.

My brain has been off for the entire day and I seriously don’t have any ideas what to do or where to go, so I answer, “Dinner would be lovely.”

With his hands buried in his pockets again, Tom leads me to a traditional-looking pub, probably a classic late 19th century pub.  I really like the ambience in this pub – beautiful carving, mirrors and decorative glass break up the main solid hardwood fittings, and the wall is covered with interesting political prints.  It’s quite a busy pub too but it seems to be easier to get a place at the dining room upstairs.

We get a little table next to a wall.  You know how small the tables can be in a pub, AND how packed the tables are, so before I know it, I’m once again – yes – trapped between Tom’s legs and this time his legs have no choice but to touch mine because of the lack of space.  To make it even worse, there is no room to put my bag on the floor under the table so I need to put it behind my back, which inevitably pushes me towards the table more.

We look at the menu and Tom asks, “What would you like to drink?”

“Erm, I really don’t know my beers or wines, I mainly drink ciders…any recommendations?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Hm, let’s see if they have any cider here.  Apple cider?”

“Yeah, a Strongbow would be fine,” I answer.  “But really, any other recommendations?  I would love to try something new too.”

“Do you want to share a bottle of red wine with me?” Tom grins confidently, which makes it feel like he already knows the answer before I open my mouth.

“Sure, of course!” I say the unnecessary.

And then I spot something on the menu.

“Tom!  You’ve GOT to tell me what this is!” I point at something called “Eton mess” under desserts.  I am feeling quite excited for no reason.

Tom laughs, “Oh that!”  He places the menu tidily on the table and rests his elbows on the table, in mock seriousness, he explains, “It’s said that it’s created when a dessert was dropped accidentally, that’s why it’s a _mess_!  Ehehehehehehe!”  He laughs as his own joke.

As much as his laugh is contagious, I don’t find the strength to laugh at this one.  So I just sit there, rest my chin on my hand and look at him with questioning narrowed eyes until he stops.  He eventually clears his throat and glances at me, clearly gathering the information of this dessert in his head.  And THAT somehow makes me giggle.

“What,” he demands.

“N…Nothing,” I keep giggling.

“Really,”

I try to get a hold of myself and manage to say between broken giggles, “It’s just, hehehehee, your face…tells a lot, hehe, and, it’s like, watching TV.”  I look at him, who looks back at me with sparkling eyes and a huge grin on his face, trying to make more facial expressions which trigger another round of laughter.

We wined and dined joyfully for the whole evening.  I can’t drink alcohol that well so after the champagne on the London Eye and the wine that I’ve just had, I can feel my cheeks burning.  I’m sure they look quite red now from Tom’s occasional stare.  Men do tend to look at me in an “Aww you look so cute!” way whenever my cheeks are flushed from alcohol even though I can still be 100% sober.  Perhaps alcohol clouds my judgment but I don’t feel any sexual vibes from them, it’s more “oh you must be so sleepy, let me walk you to your place and tuck you into bed to make sure you are okay”.  Tom has been looking at me in that way too, and he does lean in more closely than before when he talks.  I don’t know if he’s a bit drunk too?  But even if he is, I can’t tell because I’m too busy to keep my heavy eyelids open.  He offers to take me back to my hotel to make sure I get back safe and sound, despite my objection that claims I’m completely fine and sober and I can make it back okay.

Oh alright, MAYBE I am feeling a bit light-headed and MAYBE the floor is floating.  I almost sit right back down the moment I stand up.

“Yeah right, sober girl, come on.”  Tom offers his arm to me for the sake of my balance, which I gladly take and hold on to for dear life.

I don’t remember much about our way back to my hotel except that he keeps looking at my face with an amused expression on his face, and he never lets my arm go – when I loosen my grip, he would squeeze his arm to keep my arm in his.   I only remember that he’s very tall, very warm, and close, and protective.  He may be a bit drunk too but I feel secure next to him.

Finally we exit my tube station and we’re standing outside my hotel.  I am going to say my goodbye and thank you to Tom when he asks if he can borrow the bathroom in my room, which of course I can’t refuse.

I get my room key back from the front desk, and the man smiles at us with that “ooh I know what you’re up to” look on his face, seeing Tom and me together, and his look offends and disgusts me quite a bit.  _Who do you think you are, jackass?  You know nothing.  NOTHING!  He’s just here for the bathroom.  DUH!_   (Why do I sound so aggressive when I’m drunk?)

Tom and I lean back on the opposite bar handles inside the lift, to support ourselves, and both silently staring at the number indicating which floor the lift is at.  It’s getting a bit awkward.  I mean, I know we’re not doing _that_ , but this does feel a bit embarrassing, especially what the others _think_ we’d do.  I just wish he could make it quick and leave as soon as possible.

Tom has his back against the wall next to my door and looks at me (or is he checking me out?) as I am opening the door.  Once we get in, I gesture towards the bathroom and turn back to lock the door after Tom has followed me in.  I jokingly remind him as I fumble with the lock, “It’s probably the smallest bathroom in the world so don’t hurt your-“

_BAM._

I jump.  Two hands slam on the door on either side of my head.

Both of us freeze.


	11. Bed of Trust

Before I can react, Tom wraps his long arms around my shoulders after a slight hint of hesitation.

“Why…don’t you like me?” He whispers next to my ear.

I shut my eyes tight in a desperate attempt to obi-wan him to go away.  I am still facing the door and I don’t know what he is going to do next.  My cheeks are on fire, both from the alcohol and the body heat from him.

“…Why…?” He continues, squeezing me even more tightly, wrinkling my pink open sweater.  He sounds almost like he’s going to cry.

“Tom.  Stop.”  I struggle to escape from his grip and finally manage to turn around not because of my strength, but because Tom says nothing and suddenly locks himself in the bathroom right next to the door.

I can hear him banging into stuff and lets out soft “Ow!” whenever there’s a louder bang.  I wait for a moment and decide to knock on the door softly, “Are you okay in there?”

“Erm, yeah,” he groans quietly, which sounds like a hoarse whisper.

When he comes out he looks more…sane.  But I can’t face him just yet, and don’t want to be in such a cramped space with him alone so I rush into the bathroom once he steps out.  “I also need to go,” I say as I close the door.

I look at my own reflection in the mirror and can’t believe how flushed my cheeks are.  My eyes look like shit too – they look like I’m going to fall asleep any second now.  When I touch my face with my fingertips, I can feel how hot it is and therefore I try to cool it down by patting some cold tap water on it – and instantly regret it because somehow I forget how hard the water is and how it makes my skin feel dry.  I don’t know how long it’s been since I’m inside the bathroom but I take my time to cleanse, tone and super moisturize my face.  When I’m done, I hold my breath and try to listen to any movements outside.  I really wish Tom had left during my time in the bathroom but somehow I can kind of feel that he’s still there.

I open the bathroom door gingerly, try not to bump my elbows or knees into anything, and tiptoe out of the bathroom.  I poke my head into the sleeping area and find –

Tom in my bed.

He’s deep asleep in my bed, lying on his belly, arms and legs stretched out taking all the bed.  In fact, everything is so small in the room that his feet are hanging in the air because the bed isn’t long enough to accommodate him.  Gosh, how long was I in the bathroom?  It can’t be long enough for him to be sleeping like this?  I try to wake him up by grabbing one of his shoulders and shake gently but firmly, “Tom?  To-om?”

He stirs but doesn’t wake.  He shrugs my hand off his shoulder and buries his head more deeply into the pillow, while turning to lay on his side instead, pulling his knees up towards the wall.

I sigh.

He’s sleeping so soundly that I don’t want to wake him up.  Look at him, sleeping like a baby, even snoring very softly.  But now what?  It’s a tiny single bed and where am I supposed to go now?  I don’t have the money to rent another room.  The guy down there obviously thinks he knows what’s going on in this room and oh my god, oh my god, what if other people find out and how bad would it sound that he and I “spend a night together in a hotel room”? 

I am still feeling a bit hot and lightheaded, and all I want is to close my eyes and sleep, but I need to stay awake to take care of this first.  I try waking Tom again but he simply curls more and more into a ball to get away from me.  Argh.

There is not even a sofa in this room since it’s so small, so I stand my luggage up, drag it towards the armchair at the corner of the room, and use it as some sort of footrest.  I fish my inflatable travel pillow from my carry-on bag and start blowing into the valve.  And with the alcohol in my head, it certainly doesn’t help with my dizziness.  _How did I get myself into this?  I’m supposed to be on holiday, enjoying sometime in London before my wedding, and meeting an actor I like, that’s all.  And I’m now stuck in a hotel room with freakin’ Tom Hiddleston, and I can’t even sleep in my own bed that I paid for.  Why?_  

I really, really need to sleep though.  I go and switch off the light, then try to find a comfortable position in the chair, rest my legs on the luggage, place the pillow around my neck, cover myself with my trench coat and board the sleep rocket.

…

...

…

_Knock, knock._

Huh?

_Knock, knock._

Not wanting to wake Tom, I put on my glasses and tiptoe towards the door, which is easy to locate even in the dark because all its 4 edges are glowing from the light outside in the corridor.  I rub my eyes and look through the peephole –

 _JEFF_?

I almost scream but stop myself by muffling it with my palms.  What is HE doing here?  What am I going to do?  I can’t let him in.  Not like this.  What is he going to think when he sees Tom in my bed?

“Julia?” Jeff says in a normal volume.  If he keeps talking this loudly in the corridor at this hour, people are going to complain.

Not unlatching the door chain, I squeeze my face between the gap and try my best to act normal, “Hey, Jeff,” I smile at him with puffy eyes, not used to the bright lights outside in the corridor.

“My pretty fiancée!” Jeff yells excitedly.

“Shh – “ I immediately try to stop him.  “People are still sleeping!”

“What sleeping?”  Jeff smiles lovingly back at me.  “Come on my love, it’s time.”

“It’s time?” I’m puzzled.

“It’s _time_!” He says again, still grinning warmly, reaching his hand out towards me.

_Where is he going to take me?  I don’t want to take his hand!  Why is he even here?_

“Baby?”  Jeff frowns after a moment.  “Why is the door still locked?”

“Er…erm, well, you know…” I try to come up with something.  “Well, I’m not decent right now.  Still in my PJ, you know.”

“Oh, come ON, we’re getting married in two weeks!  It’s okay!  Open up,” Jeff is still smiling, but it’s not as warm as before.  I think that he’s starting to suspect something.

I quickly turn around to check on Tom –

Tom?

 _Where_ is Tom?

I push the door shut with my shoulder, yell back, “just a minute!” and rush back inside the room to look around.  The bed is still a mess, but my made-up sleeping area is now very tidy – there’s only the chair at the corner but all the luggage and coat are in their previous places.  What, did Tom do this?  And where the hell is he?

I check the bathroom and he’s not there either.  I even look up at the ceiling to see if he’s hiding or something.  I check the closet.  He’s nowhere to be seen.  He couldn’t have jumped out from the window, could he?  I check outside the window and he’s not there.

I take a final look around the room, and even check under the bed, but nope, I’m 100% sure that Tom is not in this room anymore.  I walk back to the door and open it to let Jeff in.

“Has someone been looking for me?”  A familiar voice asks.

I nearly jump out of my skin and slam the door right into his face.

WHAT?  Standing there on the other side of the door, it’s Tom.  Now where is Jeff?  WHAT IS GOING ON?

I try to steady myself behind the door, take a few deep breath…then suddenly, a pair of arms grab me from behind.  I want to scream but I can’t scream.  I want to kick and attack but my limps are all feeling heavy.

“Why don’t you like me?  Why don’t you like me?” It’s Tom.  “Why don’t you like me?”

Wha-

_Knock, knock._

“Julia?  It’s time.”  I can hear Jeff through the door.  “Julia?”

Somehow I don’t answer him back.  Tom releases me and I’m now standing between him and the door.  I can open the door and go to Jeff but I don’t want to open the door, but it doesn’t feel right to go to Tom either.  I don’t know, I DON’T KNOW!

My eyes shoot open in a pitch dark room.  My breath is heavy and my thumping heartbeat seems to be the only thing I can hear in my head.

I can work out a tall figure sleeping in the bed with the blanket messily draped across his waist.  Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I recognize the curls on his head and realize it’s Tom.  I lift my wrist until it’s right in front of my face, and try to twist it until the light from outside the window is reflected on the watch…

4:02am?

Geez.  That was some nightmare.

I really wonder how Jeff would react to this, or should I not tell him at all?  But he is going to be my husband so we are supposed to be completely honest towards each other right?  No secret.  I don’t know how I can live with it if I hide this from him.  I mean, it’s not like Tom and I did anything weird.  And Jeff would understand.  Yes.

I slowly drift back off to sleep until a peck on my forehead wakes me up.  I open my eyes to brightly-lit room and see Tom Hiddleston gazing back into my eyes.  For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.  I hold my breath until he steps back a bit and says, while scratching his head apologetically, “Sorry that I took your bed, I guess I was more intoxicated than I thought I was.”

“It…it’s okay,” I clear my dry throat.

“It’s too sweet of you to sleep in the chair, but darling, you could have just woken me up,” Tom smiles with a frown.

I smile weakly back at him, pulling my coat closer to myself, “oh believe me, I tried.”

He lowers his head until it’s level with mine and looks at me with big, puppy dog eyes, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it!” I try to sound as cheerful as I can, still trying to forget my nightmare.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’ve caused you so much trouble, but I’ll make it up to you some day.  Please forgive me that I have somewhere else to be right now and I should get going.”  Tom pauses and smiles.  “Keep in touch?” 

From his actions I don’t think he remembers what he said or did last night.  I’d better keep my mouth shut though, as I don’t want to make it even more awkward.  I shuffle in my chair, “No worries, you go do your thing.”  I try to sound more convincing and throw in a teethy grin, “We’ll meet some other day!”

He turns and heads to the door.  I get up from the chair to see him out.

“I’ll call you,” he gives me a quick cheek kiss once he is out of the door.

“Alright,” I say as he starts walking along the corridor and I close the door behind my back.

 _Sigh_. 

What was that?

My lower back aches and I want to lie down in bed for a little bit.  Even though the bed is cold now (Tom must have got up and cleaned up before waking me up – damn that means he saw my ugly sleeping face!) it still feels a bit strange to sleep in this bed.  He made the effort to make the bed too, and I don’t want to “ruin” it so now I’m only sleeping on top of the blanket and cover myself with the coat again.  I even look at the pillow closely – the pillow he rests on – and it makes my heart beats faster just because I’m now resting my head on it.  Christ, I _am_ acting like a silly fangirl. 

It’s around noon when I wake up again to an incoming text message:

**Sorry again my little darling.  I hope you managed to get some rest.  We shall meet again and I’ll make it up to you.  x Tom**

I am now fully awake – he just called me his little darling and he gave me a kiss!!  Wow!  There’s this warm feeling that starts crawling under my skin and it makes me really, really happy.  I start typing back:

**Really, it’s ok.  Just buy me a pudding next time :P  Julia**

I am starving now but I switch my netbook on first to check messages.

It’s early morning in Montreal and Jeff is online.  He’s a morning person so that’s no surprise.

11:56 AM **Jean-** **Francois** : Sweetie!  Are you okay?  
 **me** : hello hello :) Yes i am, how are you sweetie?  
 **Jean-** **Francois** : i’m just worried about you, i didn’t hear back from you yesterday.  i know i must have sounded silly in the email, sorry if it upset you.

11:57 AM  **me** : oh nono, don’t worry about it.  i’m not upset at all!    
**Jean-Francois** : phew! :D  
 **me** : it’s just that Alice did tell me about Tom and that he’s quite a touchy-feely kinda guy, he means no harm though.  he’s like that to everyone.    
**Jean-Francois** : ah okay!  i know my baby is the most attractive girl in the world so i need to protect my princess <3 hehehe!  i hope you had a nice day yesterday?

11:58 AM  **me** : oh yes i did!  did so many sightseeing around London, wait til you see my photos!!  
and oh babe  
 **Jean-Francois** : yes?

11:59 AM  **me** : you know how i always tell you about everything?  there’s sth I want to tell you but you *may* not be happy about it.  but I swear it’s nothing that bad.

12:00 PM  **Jean-Francois** :  okay…what is it?  you know i love you no matter what so don’t hesitate to tell me anything :)

12:08 PM  **me** : well, it’s that Tom showed me around London yesterday and in the evening we went to have dinner in an awesome traditional pub.  (i totally need to show you that when we travel to London together!)    
i guess we both got a bit drunk towards the end of the night and then when he took me back to the hotel, he needed to borrow the bathroom.  and after he’s done i used the bathroom too, and when i came out he’s dead asleep in my bed!!!    
I tried to wake him up but he was too deep asleep so he ended up sleeping in my room =0=”

12:09 PM **Jean-Francois** : but your bed is so small!  where did you sleep?  
 **me** : i needed to sleep in the chair :/ poor me =3=

12:13 PM **me** : baby?  you still there?

12:14 PM **Jean-Francois** : Julia,  
this is really getting ridiculous…I mean   
 **me** : but nothing’s happened, i swear!  
 **Jean-Francois** : why would you put yourself into such a position?  what if he did want to do something with you?  would you be able to resist?  and couldn’t you have tried a bit harder to wake his ass up?

12:15 PM  **me** : i tried, I really did!  but he was really deep asleep  
 **Jean-Francois** : would you be able to resist if he had wanted to do something?  what if he wanted to kiss you?  what would you do?

12:16 PM **me** : come on, it’s not like he’d want to do THAT.  
 **Jean-Francois** : you’re not answering the question  
 **me** : Jeff, sweetie.    
just think in this way, I could have chosen not to tell you anything, but I chose to, because i love you and i know i should earn your trust.

12:17 PM  **Jean-Francois** : yeah, damn right that you could decide not to tell me anything you don’t want to.  you’re always so far away and who knows what you’re doing over there.  who knows what else you’re not telling me  
 **me** : baby please…  
 **Jean-Francois** : i just…god, this is crazy.

12:18 PM  **me** : i don’t even understand why you’re mad at me, it’s not that I did anything wrong!  why would you accuse me of crazy stuff  
really, nothing happened.  you shouldn’t worry.  i love you!

12:20 PM  **Jean-Francois** : ttyl  
Jean-Francois is offline.

What the hell.

My cheeks are hot and tears are streaming down my face.  But I didn’t do anything!  I only told him because we trust each other and I just want to show him that.  How dare he accused me of hiding stuff from him and went “who knows what else you’re not telling me”!  Should I go do something that he doesn’t want to find out?  Should I?

Damn it.  He didn’t even say “I love you too” back.

I pick up my phone and there’s no text from Tom.  I close the netbook screen a bit harder than I usually do and I hit my head back into the pillow with rage.  Argh.  And I’m marrying this guy?  Why would I want to marry someone who can’t even listen to me?  I thought a good relationship is all about communication and he just went, “ttyl” and went offline.  How mature.

I am crying hard but they’re all angry tears.  I don’t know who I should turn to right now – I don’t want to bother Tom especially that he must feel a bit bad about it too; Alice would freak out if she found out Tom actually slept in my room; I can’t tell anybody else that I hang out with Tom Hiddleston, and forget about Jeff, he doesn’t even want to talk to me right now.

I punch the mattress hard.


	12. Me and Myself

Suddenly I’m not even hungry anymore because I’m SO full – of anger, and disappointment, and hurt.  I wanted to tell Jeff all about yesterday and show him the photos but he’s the last person in the world I’d want to talk to right now.  He’d better apologize.  How could he say something like that?  And what’s the point of getting angry over this, this _nothing_?

I don’t care how much that bottle of water is, that one which is left in the room by the hotel (it’s so freakin’ small there’s not even a mini-bar, they simply put it on the counter), I’m too damned thirsty so I just grab it and gulp it down, hoping it would help calm myself down a little bit.

Instead, my tears start to flow as if a dam had collapsed.  I am still feeling furious but I feel more wounded now, like someone’s-stabbed-my-heart kind of hurt.  Jeff has never said anything like that to me before, and it scares me.  I am just…just saddened that he didn’t listen to me, and didn’t seem to trust me either.   What did he mean by “would you be able to resist”?  Who does he think he is?  Is it not enough that I’ve agreed to marry him?  I’m giving up everything, even uprooting my whole life back home to move across the globe to be with him, isn’t it a solid proof?  And he thinks that I’d just go and be with someone else, following a celeb crush like I’m a stupid girl.  How dare he. 

And it’s not like Tom would want to do anything to me either.  He must have met thousands of super beautiful girls before and who the heck am I?  Hell, he probably only asked me why I don’t like him simply because usually girls throw themselves at him and I haven’t.  Anyway, he’s the perfect gentleman and I mean, he escaped into the bathroom when he got me all trapped, _even_ when he was drunk.  I don’t think I’d ever _need_ to resist him because he probably possesses Jedi-level self-discipline.

ARGH.

I want to sleep this all away.  Perhaps it’ll all get better when I wake up.  I hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign outside the door and go to bed angrily.  It takes me quite a while to fall asleep.  My heart is beating a bit way too fast.

When I wake up again, the room is all dark.  I pull my iPod closer to me and it reads 7:42pm.  I’ve been sleeping all day and now all I want to do is to sleep again.

I don’t know, I want to escape.  I thought I came here to take a break from reality.  Maybe?  Just to enjoy the last 2 weeks of life being an unmarried woman?  But now I seriously want to leave London.  I don’t belong here.  I want to relax, not to be even more stressed.  On the other hand, seriously, where can I go?  I can’t leave here.  If I go back home, reality would be right in my face staring back at me.  The only thing I can do is to suck it up and wait until it’s time for my return.

Damn I really should go eat something.  I get up, get changed and go down to the street to check out my options.  I see this Indian restaurant right across the street after I make a turn and hm, I do feel like having some spicy food, I don’t know, to numb my emotions or something.  I put on my most normal face and walk in and dine alone.  I keep looking down because my eyes are swollen and red from all the crying. 

I instantly regret it.  Can you believe how depressing it is to eat by yourself in a restaurant at dinner time?  I may do fine at a café in the afternoon but it was a wrong decision to come out for dinner.  I try not to look around and only concentrate on my curry, eat the fastest as I can and head right back to the hotel. 

I hate myself for being this weak. 

I try to act all free-spirited and act like a semi-daredevil kind of person but deep down I know I need someone.  I’m hardly ever single, when I’ve ended things with one guy, give me two months top, then you’ll find me having another long-term boyfriend.  Is it only because Jeff appears at the time when I’m supposed to get married that I find myself marrying him?  Is marriage a…safety net for me, because I’m worried when I get older fewer guys would find me attractive?  To be honest, I’ve enjoyed the attention from Tom.  I mean, who wouldn’t?  And it hits me hard that after I’m married, this is it.  I won’t be able to flirt with other guys, and they would choose not to do or say anything once they see the ring on my finger.  You’ll be committed to one guy – and one guy only, and you _cheat_ even if you simply think of doing anything with other men.

By reflex, despite all my internal reasoning, I grabble in my handbag for my phone to see if Tom’s sent me any texts. 

_Inbox 0/134_

No.  Nothing from him.

Maybe I really should have woken him up last night.  This is getting a bit awkward.  I haven’t sent him any follow-up messages after the one this morning.  Well, he knows how to reach me.  If he wants to find me, he would.  The worst-case scenario I can think of is that he remembers what he said last night and can’t face me now.

Sigh.

Anyway, I’ve already got way more than what I’ve expected.  Let everything be stored in my memory and I should put it away.  Stop having all these second thoughts and hey, wasn’t life easier and simpler before I came here?  I can return to that, especially if Tom doesn’t contact me anymore.  He’s never meant to be in my life in the first place.  I’ll just need to find something to do tomorrow because after tomorrow it’ll be Saturday, and I can go find Alice again to hang out.

Somehow, that night, I cry myself to sleep.  I feel like I’m suffocated.  I’m lost.  And there’s no hand to grab me.  I feel so alone.  The bed is cold and leaves no trace that Tom has ever been there.

***

Friday morning.  I get up early enough for the breakfast that is included in my booking, and also early enough before everybody is there.  The Continental breakfast here includes no more than 10 things, seriously, _including_ the toast.  But it’s fine, I just eat as much as I can, to see if I can save my lunch money for that day.  I leave to give up my table for someone else when the breakfast room is all full.

Okay, time to go out for some fresh air.  My eyes are still puffy but I’m sure they’ll be okay in an hour or two.  I can’t stay inside that hotel room anymore.  I didn’t even check my emails this morning – I want to give myself a little break from the virtual world.  Again, if Tom or Alice or Jeff wants to find me, they can text me, or leave me a message at the hotel.

I top up my Oyster card again (wow it’s eating my money quite quickly!) and heads towards city center.  I want to walk along River Thames a little bit before deciding where to go.  I randomly pick a station that I’ve been to, which is a bit farther away from where all the main attractions are, so that I can work my way backwards. 

Before I know it, I’m buying an ice-cream from the ice-cream truck Tom and I went to.  I feel so pathetic.  But what the hell, no one I know sees me so I should be allowed to do whatever I want.  It only takes a split second for all the images to flood back into my head.  It’s only 2 days ago so I can still see everything as fresh and sharp as they can be – Tom was here and I was there, and this is where he first held my hand, and that’s the direction we walked to…a kid walked by us right there with a red balloon in his hand, and this is where someone almost ran into me…I can practically see Tom and myself in front of me from a 3rd-person angle.  I’m not stupid enough to go the exact same way we went to, though.  I don’t cross the bridge and instead, walk along the river on the north side.

My phone vibrates when I’m enjoying my people watching during my walk.  I admit it, I’ve been hoping someone would contact me so I have my phone in my coat pocket and I’ve been walking with my hands tucked inside.  I immediately take it out and see an incoming text.  Is it from Jeff telling me that he’s sorry?  I press “read” expectantly.   

**Sorry that I didn’t have the chance to reply to your text.  I got caught up with something else.  Have a good night little one.  Tom**

Eh?  Have a good night?  I look at the timestamp, it says 21:15 7/9/2012.  Stupid lagging.  Just when I am thinking of what I should reply, my phone vibrates again.

**Will I have the pleasure to meet up with you again?  T**

This one reads 22:02 7/9/2012.

What, now they decide to send me all the messages in a row?  I wait for one whole minute to make sure there are no more texts from Tom, or Jeff (wait, he sent me nothing?  _Nothing_?  Seriously?), and I shove the phone back into my pocket.  It shouldn’t matter, because my life will be simpler with _out_ Tom Hiddleston in it.  I only need to survive in London for a week without seeing him, which is supposed to be easy enough since he’s a big movie star and big movie stars have plenty of other things to do other than messing with my life.  I want Jeff and me to have what we’ve always had, and Tom is definitely not included in that picture.

I see the London Eye across the river again and I can’t help but think of my time with Tom up there.  My phone decides to vibrate AGAIN at that moment:

**Sorry if it seems I am sending a lot of texts but I’m not sure if you’re getting my messages.  I’ll try some other ways after I send this one.  Where are you at this time?  x Tom**

I roll my eyes.  I don’t want him to go ahead and send me tons of emails or call the hotel a dozen times – it’s better if there are fewer things that would remind me of him, be it my email inbox or my hotel.  I need to put a stop to it, so I type back:

**Out.  Need some fresh air.**

I keep typing some more words and deleting them, and I do it again for two more times.  Okay this is what I need to send him, something cold and distant.  I hope he’ll get the message and leave me alone.

Okay, on with the tour.  Hm, I recognize this place!  I make a right turn and walk towards Trafalgar Square, and automatically, once again, I’m back at the National Gallery.  I know there are so many other places that I really am duty-bound to go check out in London, but I can’t resist the National Gallery.  It’s like saying hello to old friends, seeing all these beautiful paintings in there.  There are a few (okay, way more than a few) paintings that I always look at whenever I am here and now I make my way to visit each of them. 

There is no reason to look at the time, especially I know they close late on Fridays.  I only notice how much time I’ve been in the gallery when I go to the café and they are already serving afternoon tea.  I like the high ceiling and the furniture in here.  So far it’s been a happy day!  I’m at my favorite place, looking at paintings, and I’ve finally succeeded in spending some time with myself and feel comfortable with it.

All the standing and walking around must have burnt more calories than I thought, so I order the biggest “Classic Afternoon Tea” with my favorite Earl Grey tea.

When my afternoon tea arrives, my eyes widen with happiness.  I’m always a sucker for British afternoon tea – I simply love the tiered stand…MMMMM!!!  All these finger sandwiches and pastries and cakes and ohohohh!  A scone!  And I heard the jam here is something to look out for too.  I really like scones so I try it out first – hmmm the jam and clotted cream are excellent!  The scone is okay but the ones I had at the Peninsula were way better.  I take my time to finish all the others and then, totally out of the blue, Tom’s face comes to mind.  I remember that time when we had an afternoon tea at the Shakespeare’s Globe.  Without thinking, I take out my cell phone to see if there’s any new text from Tom.  I feel a bit disheartened when there is none.

Damn, Julia!  DAMN!  Stop it.

I shut my eyes and shake my head irritably.  I try my best to study the cutlery and the café itself, and start my people-watching again.  I like looking at people and try to make up some life stories about them, or to imagine what they’re talking to each other.  After finishing the food, I sit back in my chair, enjoy my tea and study the map a little bit more even though I know very well what the layout is like.

I finally pay and decide to continue my tour in the gallery.  Now it’s time for the less famous works.

Idly I wander back into Room 45, where Van Gogh’s, Gauguin’s and Cézanne’s works are placed.  I’ve already come here for the Sunflowers and A Wheatfield with Cypresses, and now my eyes are fixated on yet another painting by Van Gogh.  At the first glance, it’s simply a painting of grasses.  But if you look closely, there are several white butterflies flying low hovering around the grasses.  It may look like a painting someone draws at their garden or in a park, but there’s something…off about this painting.  The longer you look at this painting, the sadder you’d feel.  Van Gogh drew this at an asylum, near his own death.  He was depressed at this time when he drew it.  You can’t see the sky in the painting, it’s only the ground.  And somehow, the butterflies are flying so close to the grass, it’s as if they’re being dragged down and they can’t fly high.  And that patch of grasses that have turned brown or yellow around the top edge of the painting, probably symbolizes the end or death of something.  This painting reminds me of the little sparrows I saw when I was on my way to the airport, that how free it is to have a pair of wings…

_Gasp._

Someone is standing behind me uncomfortably close.  A pickpocket?  I slam my hand on handbag to make sure it’s secured – and my hand gets grabbed instead.  I am about to scream but then I smell it.  Or rather, I smell _him_.

“Hey,” Tom whispers.  “Here you are.”

“No, Tom,” I turn around and find my eyes staring at his chest, with him being so close.  I try to push him away by placing my palm on his chest lightly, “I don’t want to bring you anymore troubles.  Jeff’s been worried too so…”

I really just wish he can go away.  Please, Tom, please leave me alone.  We don’t belong to the same universe!

“Come with me,” Tom grabs my hand, _again_ , and leads me out of the gallery.


	13. Invisible Cloak

It feels like he’s in a hurry to somewhere.  With my hand in his, I stumble along at first but quickly catch up because I don’t want to look like I’m being kidnapped, but then I appear to be half jogging next to him.

“How did you find me?” I start panting from following Tom through the gallery rooms and dodging people.

He doesn’t answer.  The only thing he does is to focus on the path.  I don’t want to raise my voice inside the gallery, and this is still a place where I know my way around, so I wait until we’re outside.  He is now pulling me down the stairs outside the entrance and I need to concentrate on keeping my balance.  I ask again, “Tom, how did you find me?  Why do you know I’m here?”

 

Tom keeps walking, briefly turns his head back and smirks, “This is your favorite place, isn’t it?”

I freeze for half a second.  He remembers.  He remembers everything I’ve said to him.  Why?

“Tom, wait.”  We are on the ground level again and he is about to lead me to turn a corner.  “Wait!”

He simply smiles and nods his head sideway, indicating the direction we are walking towards, “Come on.”

“No, Tom,” I plead.

My request is ignored.

“Tom, Stop!” I shake my hand out of his grip, and he looks back at me in shock.

I take a deep breath, and summon all my courage to look him in his eyes, “Tom, I can’t just follow you like this.  WHY are you here?”

His jaw tightens, looks down at the ground and lowers his head.

My voice softens, “Tom, I just…you can’t grab my hand and drag me all around the place.”

He looks up without raising his head, looking sad and confused all of a sudden, “but I thought we’re friends?”

“Of  _course_  we are, Tom, but friends don’t hold hands.  Not between boys and girls.  I don’t think Jeff will be very happy about it.”

His eyes are blank for a moment, or…am I mistaken?  “Oh yes, Jeff.”  He pauses.  “The fiancé.”

“Yes, the fiancé,” I repeat in a whisper.

We are now standing here in a relatively deserted corner in uncomfortable silence.

“Can you come with me?” Tom starts, and fidgets with his fingers.  “Please?”  He doesn’t close our distance and makes an effort to be polite, somehow unnaturally, since it feels rather distant and cold.

I bite my lip, “Okay.  But you need to tell me where we are going.”

“To a place where we can talk,” his sad frowns tightens upwards.  “Please?”

I don’t want to push him, so I reply with a sigh, “Fine.”

Tom puts on his sunglasses, and we start walking, much more calmly than before.  We cross some more roads and soon we’re walking on The Mall.  Tom makes another turn and walks into the park so I follow him too.  All these times we walk without exchanging a word – was I overreacting before, was I being too harsh on him?  I keep working up for an apology – how should I word it?   _Look, Tom, I’m sorry for…Hey, sorry about earlier…Tom, I know you mean good but…_

Tom comes to a halt in front of a bench facing the lake, and I am so deep in thought that I almost bump right into him.

“Woah woah, welcome back to Earth little one,” Tom steadies me by holding both of my shoulders.

“Oh sorry,” I step back.

“Let’s have a rest here, shall we?” He gestures to the unoccupied bench and sits down with a relieved sigh.

I sit down beside him but intentionally leave a certain space between us, I even put my handbag down on my side for assurance.  He doesn’t seem to notice though.  I can tell something has been bothering him because since the moment he sits down, his arms are stretched out and one of them rests on the back behind me, but he frowns at the lake quietly for some time.  I sit up straight at the edge with both feet flat on the ground, staring at the lake, waiting for him to continue.

“You know,” he finally starts.  “I remember in one of the interviews I had, they asked me what kind of superpower I would like to have and I replied ‘an invisible cloak’.  Don’t you think having an invisible cloak would be absolutely fantastic?”

“Mmmhmm,” I nod with innocent eyes, not thinking much of what he’s just said.

“It is such freedom not to be seen…” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, interweaving his fingers, while still staring at the lake.  “I know this is what I chose to do, but sometimes, sometimes it’s just too much, you know?  Sometimes I really wish I had an invisible cloak, so that I can be normal for a week, not having people on my tail 24/7, not having anyone trying to get a piece of me all the time.”

I glance at his profile – he’s looking all solemn and engrossed in his thoughts.

He goes on, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my fans, I do.  But sometimes, things can get out of hand.  You can’t imagine some of the things that people are willing to do to get what they want,” he sighs and shakes his head.  “Well, what can I do?  I’ve got to accept it, it comes with the package.”

I suddenly remember that time when we were on the train and how he tried to face away from the crowd.  Hearing his confession, my heart aches.  I want to comfort him but I don’t really know what to say.  I’m also feeling confused why he’s telling me all this, why the troubles of finding me and then tell me the downside of being a celebrity?

“I guess I can choose to live with it, though.  It’s there, whether or not I like it.  Everybody needs to sacrifice something for doing things they love, and despite all these things, all these unreasonable actions from certain people, I guess I should accept reality and live my life, right?”  He sits back up and rests his back against the bench again.

“Yeah, I guess,” I look at him.

We look at each other for a second, then I look away and look at the fallen leaves on the ground instead.  He mirrors my movement.

“You’re right, Tom.  We can’t choose our lives but we can choose how we look at it.  A lot of people would kill to be in your position, you do realize that?”

“Hahaha, yes of course,” a smile finally appears on his face.  “I’m thankful for what I have, I feel truly blessed.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.  But Tom –“

“You must be wondering why I’ve taken you here,” he finishes my sentence.

“Well, yeah.”

He pauses and draws a breath, like he’s going to tell me something important.  Then he gazes at me, “The truth is, I trust you.”

His words make me feel shy in an instant and I look back at him in surprise, “But…why?”

“Why?” He giggles.  “For starters, it’s been a week since we knew each other and you haven’t even asked me for my autograph or my photo!  Why?  You don’t like my movies?”

I raise my hands and start to wave them crazily, “No no no…I  _love_ your movies!”

“Ehehehehee!”  He laughs with his tongue slightly sticking out.  “Oh, please darling.  I’m just kidding you.  Don’t need to look so horrified!  Besides, admit it, you sleep through quite a number of them.”

I press my hands on my knees, pout and roll my eyes at him.

He pats one of my hands warmly, “But seriously, I do trust you, Julia.”  His eyes are now twinkling at me.  “I can tell that you are not hanging out with me because of my fame or status…hopefully?”  He raises his eyebrows at me questionably.

“What?  Of course not!”  I frown.

Tom is having a wide grin on his face now, giggling at my reaction, “Little darling, I know, I know.  You are even kind enough not to kick me off the only tiny bed you’ve got and you went to sleep in a chair instead.  That’s genuine kindheartedness.  I’m forever grateful.”

“Well yeah, just…try not to do it again, okay?”  I smirk.

“It’s too small for me anyway,” his joking remark earns an “are-you-freakin-kidding-me?” angry  glare from me, but he quickly recovers and puts on the most sincere expression.  “Thank you, thank you so much for being real, for letting me trust you.  You are an amazing person and I’m truly thankful to have you in my life now.”

I’m never used to these moments, from him or from anybody else.  I tend to lighten it up.  I wave it off dramatically and pull a face, “Oh, Mr. Hiddleston, don’t flatter yourself.  You’re just another guy!”

He rests his ankle on the opposite knee and looks around confidently, “Oh  _yes_  I am!  Just another guy.”

I’m glad that everything seems to have resolved now between us, even though I’m not sure if there is anything at all to resolve in the first place.  Looking at his happy face, while both of us are giggling, I comment as a joke, “This may sound so stupid, oh gosh, for a moment I thought you were going to tell me that you like me!”

Tom giggles fade and he presses his lips into a forced smile.  He looks down very briefly, then raises one eyebrow at me, “but I  _do_  like you!”

Sensing I’ve foolishly changed the mood to the wrong direction, there’s nothing I can do but to be trapped in a corner and am expected to come up with an explanation, “Oh, I mean, all the hand-holding and erm, stuff…well, it’s probably just me thinking too much!”  I grin at him, trying to convince him that I didn’t mean anything serious.  But he only looks at me with the same pressed lips and semi-frown, and says nothing.

“Right?”  I prompt again.

“Totally,” he finally saves me from my embarrassment.

“So erm, friends?”  I reach out my hand for a handshake.

“Friends.” He takes my hand and shakes it warmly.

We both sit on the bench to look at the lake in silence for some more until it’s dinner time.  Probably because of what happened last time, neither of us suggests dinner together.  Instead, Tom asks if we can meet up again tomorrow.

“I’m supposed to meet Alice, but of course you can join us.  It’d be fun.”

“Do you know when and where?”  Tom takes out his phone to check his calendar.

“Not yet, but ah, I’ll let you know ASAP.”

“Alright, cool.”  He puts his phone back into his pocket.  “Look, I’m really sorry about earlier – “

“Tom, you don’t –“

“Yes, I do.” His tone is firm.  “It was rude of me to drag you out of the gallery, I’m sorry.  I was too scared that you were avoiding me…and it’s so difficult to find someone I can trust these days.  I don’t want to lose you.  After the text message you sent me, I really want to check if you’re okay, or if you’re mad at me or something.  You can say that I freaked out a little bit.”

“It’s probably a bit rude of me to write such a …cold text message too, huh.”

“Oh no it wasn’t!”  Tom shakes his head.  “Hey, I’m happy that we know each other.  I really am.”

“Me too,” I smile at him rather bashfully.

“So, see you tomorrow?”  He says as he stands up.  I remain seated and nod.  “Do you know your way back from here?”

“Yes,” I give him a little wave for goodbye.  I wait until he’s out of sight before standing up and thinking where I should go next.

_Okay, so that went well.  He’s just a guy who desperately wanted to talk to someone, obviously he was having one of those moments.  I feel honored that I’m the one he wants to talk to, though.  Oh my, he really sees me as one of his true friends now doesn’t he?  Wow, who would have thought of that a week ago?  I have just met him a few days ago and now I’m his new BFF.  He does puts a lot of trust in him…wow.  I know I keep saying wow but yes…WOW.  I can’t let him down.  I can’t let anyone hurt him._

When I am back in my tiny hotel room, I log online on my netbook.  Jeff has sent me a short email to apologize and he is actually online so we chat a little bit.  I tell him all about Tom and what he’s said earlier that day in the park.  I guess we both see him as some sort of secretly-insecure-but-act-optimistic kind of person and we both agree that it’s really not easy to be a successful celebrity.  I finally have the chance to tell Jeff about my previous days and what I did in London.  It’s still a bit awkward between us but hey, at least we’re talking normally and not arguing.  I’m happy that we can resolve our issues.  That’s how relationships work, right?  By open and honest communication.  I look at Jeff’s name on my chatting screen and I feel true bliss in my heart.  This nice guy is going to be my husband, and I can  _trust_  him to take good care of me and love me with all his heart.

Only after I finish chatting with Jeff that I log in to my Tumblr account and oh boy, what’s going on?  It’s like there was a giant cyber earthquake.  His fans keep mentioning crazy fans and how Tom deserves respect and privacy…I read pages after pages and I am shocked at what I find out and gosh, poor Tom must have been feeling so down that he was so desperate to find someone to talk to.  How can I be mad at him anymore for what he did today? 

I’m  _glad_  that he found me.


	14. New Best Friend

Despite the text messages I sent to Alice the night before, I haven’t heard anything from her until around 8 this morning, which tells me that she can’t make it in the morning but she would like to have dinner with both Tom and me today.

Ah, alright.

Eh?  But why both Tom and me?  Did Tom tell her that we’re going to hang out today?

Anyway, I tell Tom about it and he suggests that we can go out and have a quiet and relaxing day today.  He does seem a lot happier than the day before.  When I was online last night, I saw that he posted some photos of him wearing this ridiculous moustache.  This man possesses such strong recovery power that he must be Wolverine in his head.  I’m happy about it, though.  The look on his face broke my heart yesterday.

 

He takes me to a café which appears to be one of his usual spots since the waiter greets him with great enthusiasm and immediately shows him a table not in the back like he usually prefers it, but hidden next to the dessert display fridge.

“So this is your spot, huh?” I ask Tom as I hang my bag at the back of my chair and cover it with my sweater.

“Oh yes, definitely,” his eyes are already on the desserts in the fridge.  “Look at all these!  Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, but isn’t it a bit too tempting?” I giggle, knowing how much he loves his sweeties.  I never quite understand why people crave desserts so much.  I’m not a big fan.

“It isn’t a temptation anymore when I get my teeth on them!” He is still eyeing the display with a big smile on his face.  Oh that boyish look on his face gets me every time – I can’t help but feel happy with him.

“Good  morning!” The same waiter appears next to our table and beams at us, placing the cutlery and napkin on our table.  “The usual?”  He looks at Tom.

“Actually,” Tom frowns and tries to search for something from the display.  “What’s that?”  He points at a colorful cake which is already missing two slices.

“Oh that, that’s our Paralympic cake!  It matches the color of its logo,” the waiter bends down a bit and studies the cake more closely.  “But as you can see, it’s actually a dark chocolate mousse cake in disguise.”

“Hohoo, dark chocolate mousse!  I’ll have one!”

“Sure thing, anything to drink?”  The waiter scribbles the order down on his pad.

“Earl Grey would be lovely.”

“Oh, Earl Grey for me too,” I add hastily.

The waiter turns to me with a smile, “so any cake for you, miss?”

“Erm, do you have crème brûlée?”  I don’t want anything too heavy and ruin my weight loss schedule.

“Yes, we do.  I’ll get one for you?” His big grin never leaves his face.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back with your orders!” The waiter clears our menu and leaves with a polite nod. 

Yes, of course I’m trapped between Tom’s long legs again under the table but this time, I feel less conscious about it.  I realize that I’m getting more and more comfortable with him.

“Hey where’s your Wendy?” I purse my lips in a knowing look.

Instantaneously he gets all excited and pulls the hem of his shirt a bit, “Oh you saw that?  It was hilarious isn’t it?  I can’t believe they like Wendy so much!”

“Your fans  _adore_  you, Tom.”

“Oh yes and I love them!”  There’s his teethy grin again.  “They often have such great ideas and often make me feel so supported.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re doing much better today, Tom.”

He interweaves his fingers and rests his mid-forearms at the edge of the table, “Yes, because I’ve found you!”  He grins more widely.

I am never taught how to respond to such words!  From such a person!  Damn, Tom.  Why do you need to be so perfect?  I giggle and avoid any eye contact with him.  I try to look at the tables behind him instead.

He reaches across the table for my hand and my eyes instantly shoot back to him, “I’m serious, Julia, I  _am_  grateful that Alice introduced us.  Do you have any idea how hard it is these days to find a real friend?  How hard it is to find someone you can trust?  It’s a crazy world out there.”

“Oh yes, of course I do,” I smile sympathetically.  “Everybody’s wearing their own masks and sometimes, even some of your old friends can screw you up after all those years you’ve spent with them.  It’s crazy.”

“Exactly,” his hands pat mine lightly and then return to his chin.  “The only person you can fully trust these days is yourself, it seems.  It’s sad but it’s true.”

“It is, but I try not to think about it too much.  I mean, deep down, I guess I don’t even trust anybody, not even myself.  You know what, my life motto is from my favorite movie _The Fifth Element_.  It says, and I remember every single word of it, ‘ _if you want something done, do it yourself_.’  The first time when I heard it I almost cheered at that quote.  I always do things myself to make sure they go well because I just can’t trust anybody with it.  It’s sick.”

“Well, it’s understandable, but that sounds very stressful as well.  Seems like you gotta relax a little and enjoy life more,” Tom curves the corners of his lips upwards.  “Some people believe in karma, I know not everybody believes in that, but I’m sure you’ve heard _what goes around comes around_ , right?”

“Sure.”

“I can’t say that will always happen, but I can  _assure_  you that,” he leans closer.  “Every.  Single.  One.  Who has lied to me or people who are close to me, they always get busted and never end up well.  So I’d say, let karma deal with them.  If they don’t treasure the trust from you, then let them lose it forever.”

“Okay, here’s your tea…” Tom has just finished his sentence and lean his back against the chair when the waiter puts down two metal tea pots, cups and tea bags on the table.

It’s such a lovely time at the café with Tom.  It’s absolutely insane because it’s been only one week but you can’t believe how connected it feels – one topic naturally links to the next and the conversation simply flows for hours.  If people met us for the first time, they would probably think that Tom and I have known each other for many years.  I already feel I know a lot about him but there are still so many things to find out.  We talk about our childhood, our schools, teachers we’ve had, some crazy schoolmates that we had, the education systems of different countries, pizza toppings, shoe designs, ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends…basically, anything and everything.

I completely lose sense of time.  I only know that the waiter has refilled our teapots a couple of times and eventually we needed to order another pot, AND we were getting hungry at one point that we ordered some actual food to eat.  I faintly remember there was a peak hour when a lot of customers came in, but then we’re still sitting there after the crowd has disappeared.

We sit there and talk and talk and talk, that’s basically all we do.  I enjoy looking at him while he is talking – he often looks up to the ceiling or to the sides when he’s thinking of something, and his face can switch between a slight frown in concentration and a big smile in interest very quickly.  On top of them all, I like looking at his “open face” – his brows subtly lifted, his eyes wide and glittering.  He often listens to people with such great interest and expresses himself unreservedly.  Before we know it, it’s time to meet Alice after she gets off from work.

Guess what, I have a new best friend!  By the end of our time at the café, we understand each other so well that we are finishing each other’s sentences.  I can’t help but shake my head with a giggle.  This is absolutely madness.  Where has Tom been hiding for all these years?

When we walk out of the café together, in order to stay close to Tom among the crowds, I go ahead and grab his hand.  He smiles back at me and gives my hand a little squeeze.  I don’t know, I guess after the time we’ve spent together, I think that he’s much more vulnerable than he seems to be.  If he gets comfort from holding hands, then let it be.  I guess it does get tiring to put on the brave, confident, I-know-I-am-sexy look all day long.  And since we’re now each other’s new bestie, I believe that’s okay.

Jeff may not understand how much of a best friend we are to each other or what it’s like but…he doesn’t need to know, does he?  And even if he finds out, there’s nothing to explain.  Period.

We’re supposed to meet Alice outside this new and hip restaurant – she made a reservation earlier today when she confirmed the time with us.  I only know that she and Tom exchanged some texts before the reservation was made.  I follow Tom along the streets and when we stop at a traffic light, he glances at me through his sunglasses (seriously, doesn’t it draw more attention when someone wears sunglasses after the sun has set?), “We’re close.  The restaurant is just behind that turn.”

“Okay,” suddenly I feel butterflies in my stomach but I can’t quite point my finger on it.

We walk along a rather deserted street compared to those we have passed by, towards a place where a little crowd gathers and the light from indoors shines through the windows and is reflected on the pavement, while happy chattering can be heard echoing along the street.  My palm is getting sweatier and sweatier inside Tom’s and I have no idea why I’m starting to get nervous when we approach the restaurant –

Until I spot those deep strawberry blonde curls that reflect the light so well, and that signature army green belted trench coat. 

I hurriedly slip my hand out of Tom’s before Alice can see us.

Tom thinks I am going to trip though so he grabs my hand tightly in reflex to make sure I don’t fall.

“Hey guys!” Alice waves at us when we are just about 15 feet away.  I feel like I am a deer caught in the headlights.

I would have felt more amused to see Alice’s face if her grin hadn’t disappeared at us, more specifically, at where Tom and I are in contact.  I try to pull my hand again and Tom seems to have realized something, he holds my hand up and gives a little pat on it, and speaks audibly enough for Alice to hear, “Don’t fall, little one!  I’ve got you!”  Then he releases my hand and we keep walking towards Alice.

Tom’s confident act has shaken Alice’s obvious confusion / suspicion, and everyone is acting normally again when we greet each other outside the restaurant’s entrance.

Alice gives her reservation information to the  _maître d_ ’ and we’re led to our table.  The ambience in this restaurant is unbelievable – it’s all raw-industrial chic and trendy. 

“I REALLY needed to pull some strings to get us a table here, especially for Saturday evening!  It’s said that it’s impossible to get a table for dinner until spring next year!”  Alice sits down with a relieved sigh.

“Ehehehehe I helped too!” Tom raises his hand playfully.

Alice rolls her eyes at him, “ _Luke_  did.”

I enjoy looking at their exchange and quietly make myself comfortable in the chair.

“So, what did you guys do today?” Alice leans towards us with interest.  She sits opposite to Tom while I sit next to him.

“You know what,” Tom places his hand on his neck thoughtfully.  “Nothing!  We only sat in a café and talked for the whole day!”

“What?” Alice looks shocked.  “Talked for the whole day!  What’s there to talk about?”

“Everything,” Tom and I say at the same time.  We giggle at each other, which instantly earns a questioning look from Alice.

“Everything huh,” Alice smiles politely, which somehow makes me feel a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden.  She then turns to me with an excited expression on her face, “hey Julia, so how does it feel?  I can’t believe you’ll be a married woman in 2 weeks!”

My heart tightens for a split second, because it feels like I have just been vacuumed from inside a fantasy rocket to the space of reality.   _Swoosh_!  I turn on my auto-pilot, and puts on my polite smile, “It still feels so unreal, but I am happy, yes.  We’re happy.  We’re both looking forward to it.”

“Excuse me,” Tom stands up and nods at us courteously, and I assume he heads to the washroom.

Alice waits until he is out of earshot, even though the restaurant is full of diners and therefore I doubt Tom can hear anything if he’s not sitting in the same table.

“WHAT THE HELL!” Alice glares at me with wide eyes and says in a harsh whisper.

“What?” I am confused.

“I saw you,” she narrows her eyes.  “Why were you two holding hands?  And what’s with all that giggles and what,” she frowns in disbelief.  “Sat in a café and talked for the whole day?  What the hell?  I  _KNEW_  something’s going on, I knew it!  And when I saw you two outside the restaurant – damn!”

I am now feeling quite defensive and cross my arms in front of my chest, “what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Alice is getting more animated, in a bad way.  “What’s wrong with that?  What would Jeff think?”

“Well, I’ve just got myself a new best friend.  He’ll be happy for me, I believe.” I say, not sounding as convincing as I want it to be, not even to my own ears.

“Yeah, right.” Alice sounds pretty cross now, and even though I don’t want to admit it, I secretly agree that she has the reason to.  “I’d like to see if he’ll be happy if he’s here right now.  Come on, Julia, what ARE you doing?”

“Nothing!  I swear,” I raise my palms in surrender, and then wondering if I’m over-doing it.  “We’re really just friends, you gotta believe me.”

“You’d better be,” Alice shakes her head and opens her menu, takes a quick look and then closes it again, “Jeff is a  _good_  man.  Please don’t break his heart.”

I smile, “Yes, I know.  Don’t worry about it, okay?”  I open my menu and start reading it.

I am about to suggest the tasting menu when someone places his hand on my shoulder and kisses the top of my head quickly.  It’s Tom of course, who has just given me a quick peck when he walked past my chair before reaching his.

A quick glance at Alice tells me that she is not impressed by it.  But she’s trying to be tactical before she opens her mouth.  She waits until the waiter takes our order (we have decided to go for the tasting menu) and she smiles at Tom like a big sister would, “I’m happy that you get along with Julia so well, Tom.”

Tom’s face immediately breaks into a huge grin and his eyes glint, “Oh yes, thanks SO much for introducing us, Ali.  I haven’t had so much fun with anyone in a long time!”

“My pleasure,” Alice smiles again, almost formally, “I would love to introduce her fiancé to you someday too when the chance comes, he’s such a great person too.”

So much for subtlety, Alice.

“Yes, I would love to meet him one day,” Tom purses his lips into a tight smile, and appears to be much calmer than before.

Tom must have got the hint and he remains friendly throughout the rest of the evening.  The food is amazing and I take a lot of food photos, we dine and talk and occasionally joke, but it can’t be compared with what we had that afternoon.  If we have put our hearts on the table this afternoon, we lock them in a safe right now.  I don’t understand why Alice can’t be happy with us being best friends – can’t boys and girls be close friends?  Does it automatically cut off all your communication with your guy friends once you are romantically linked to someone else?  That’s so unfair!  Why can’t we just let it be, let our friendship flourish without worrying about anything? 

I love Alice, but I love Tom too (not  _that_  way, don’t get me wrong!).  And of course I love Jeff.  I am going to marry him, right?  So don’t make me choose!


	15. From A to B and Back Again

There is only a week left for me to be here in London.  If so much can happen in one week, how is it going to be for the following week?  I can’t even imagine.

I don’t know if Alice did it on purpose or it’s the original plan anyway.  When we were having our desserts, she invited me to join them on a family outing tomorrow before Tom could make any plans with me.  Tom did look up, or  _tore_  his eyes from his dearest pudding, after hearing what Alice said and commented, “Oh it’s alright.  ( _chew, put down his tiny dessert fork and look up)_ I’ll see when I can join you.  ( _swallow_ )  I’ve got something to do in the morning and early afternoon.”  And then his focus returned to his dessert.  That man.

Having spotted a celebrity, the manager discreetly asked for an autograph when he brought us the bill, trying not to attract too much attention.  I guess it’s probably because if the customers felt disturbed, he’d be in trouble?  That was the first time in the evening though, that reminded me of the difference between Tom and the rest of us – Alice and I were totally invisible in the others’ eyes while Tom was in the spotlight, looking totally at ease.  In fact, the manager only noticed my existence when his pen didn’t work and asked me if I had one.  And I was invisible again the second when I replied, “Sorry – “

The diners from the next table did look at us and Tom for a bit.  One of the men might recognize Tom but I don’t think they cared and thus just went on with their business – those people are probably rich bankers who don’t care about the others and have no friends so they are stuck with other people who also have no friends.  They fill that hole by buying expensive gold watches, apparently.  Anyway, we managed to enjoy our food and left the place in peace.  It was a very nice restaurant, I especially enjoyed that coddled hen egg: it’s served inside an egg shell which nestles in a bowl that’s decorated like a bird’s nest.

Tom has just kissed my cheeks for goodbyes and hurries along the street to head back home, while now Alice holds onto my arm and we walk towards the opposite direction.  I try to take advantage of Tom’s reserved friendliness for the evening and defend us, “Alice, see, Tom and I are just friends!  I don’t understand why you were freaking out earlier.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Alice rolls her eyes and comes to a halt in the middle of the street.  “He puts on his act again the moment he saw my face outside the restaurant, and even more so when he sensed that he had been spotted inside there.”  She starts walking again, taking me with her because we’re walking arm in arm.  “I know what he’s like and how he acts, I  _grew up_ with him, for Christ’s sake.”

“But –“ I try to think of an explanation but I can’t.  “What do you mean by putting on his act?”

“He  _tried_  to act normal, but he totally overdid it this evening.  He might be able to fool the others but definitely not his family,” Alice is paying attention to where we are going because I’m obviously not, and is dragging me behind her because of her long legs.  “It may not be my business because he’s a grown man…but I can smell it.”

“Smell  _what_?” I involuntarily emphasize on the last word as I try my best to leap over a puddle on my side of the street.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alice sounds both concerned and worried with a hint of being irritated by the situation.  “He’s hiding something.”

I can’t process the words that Alice has just said because finding your long lost twin and being told that they’re hiding something from you on the same day makes me really confused.  Feeling quite confident that I’ve got to know Tom a lot better than the days before, or simply because I am in denial, I reply, “Maybe he did put on an act for the other people, don’t think too much.  He wouldn’t hide things from us, would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?  But oh well, like I said, he’s a grown man and it’s not my business.  I just hope he’s alright.”

“Yeah.”

“Remember though, please don’t go break Jeff’s heart.”

“ _Alice –_ “ I let out an exasperated sigh.

“I mean it,” she jerks on my arm.  “I  _know_  my cousin is hot and attractive.  Try not to fall for his charm…I love you, Julia…I would love to see Tom ends up with a girl as nice as you.  But he was quite heart-broken last year from his last relationship and I don’t want to see that again.”

“Alice, I really think you  _are_  thinking too much,” I interrupt.

“I hope I am indeed.” Alice smiles weakly as we step inside an Underground station.

We don’t talk about Tom for the rest of our journey back home.  When I get off at my station, Alice tells me she’ll contact me for the outing tomorrow.  We’ll go to the zoo with Chloe and Matilda, which I’m excited about.  I adore those girls!

That night I go online and google that zoo – I’ve never been to any zoos in London and I am thrilled to find out the ZSL London Zoo is the world’s oldest scientific zoo.  Wow, it’s opened for nearly 200 years!  It has the first everything too – first reptile house, first public Aquarium, first insect house…wow. 

Jeff and I talk too, of course.  I tell him all about the talk-of-the-town restaurant that we just went to, and how surprised I am now, after I’ve read the reviews on the internet, that we could actually get a table without making a reservation months ago.  I also tell him that I’m going to visit the zoo with Alice’s relatives tomorrow and show off to Jeff of my very recently acquired knowledge of the zoo.  Meanwhile, Jeff is getting excited about the upcoming wedding.  He emails me a few photos of different ties and asks for my opinions on which one to choose since he isn’t sure which one would match our theme color the best.

We chat for about an hour like we used to do, it’s as if nothing had happened two days ago.  I intentionally avoid the subject of Tom though.  If Alice makes some comments like those before, imagine what Jeff might think, especially with him being so far away so I can understand the insecurity he feels.  Alice told me not to break Jeff’s heart, but little does she know, it’s absolutely unnecessary to remind me that because breaking his heart is the last thing I would do.  He’s too precious to me.  Why would I hurt someone who loves and treasures me so much?

***

I get off at Camden Town station as instructed by Alice on a text message I received earlier this morning.  I managed to go have my breakfast at my hotel before I left and so now I feel ready for a day of outdoor activities.

“Hey, over here!” Alice stretches her hand and waves at me as I exit through the turnstile.  She comes and picks me up before joining the others at the zoo entrance.  She has all her hair up today and her backpack is slinging on her shoulder.

“Hey, good morning,” I beam at her.  I feel happy today.  I love zoos.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Alice asks as she turns and leads me to an exit.

We continue our idle chitchat until we reach the zoo.  Uncle Jimmy is the first one to spot us when we approach.  The two girls are too busy looking at some ants on the ground next to a bush to even notice us.  Deborah and Robert give us little waves to greet us since they are trying to keep an eye on the girls.  Alice goes ahead and hugs everybody, and I try to follow her as closely as possible.  Everybody hugs me back too and immediately puts me at ease – after all, it’s only the 2nd time I’m seeing everybody but they’re all so friendly that I feel very comfortable around them.

“Alice!” A girl lets out a half shriek and holds Alice in a tight embrace.

“Emma!  Long time no see,” Alice closes her eyes and hugs her back.

_Wait, Emma?  Can she be –_

I try to tilt my head a bit for a better look of her face, but before I can come to a conclusion, Alice gestures at me and says to Emma, “This is Julia, I worked with her before.”  Emma extends her hand and I shake it, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Emma, Alice’s cousin.  Nice to meet you too.”  She replies politely.

“Tom’s her brother, by the way,” Alice adds.  “Even though they don’t look too much alike.”

Emma snickers, “It’s okay because I’m the prettier one!” 

Everyone giggles at the remark and Uncle Jimmy speaks up, “Shall we?” He holds up the tickets in mid-air.

“YES!” The girls scream animatedly, jumping up and down.

After we walk into the zoo, we immediately turn right for the Aquarium – Matilda loves it so much and she’s really eager to show it to her little sister.  It’s one of the most adorable things I’ve even seen.  I tag along behind the group – Alice is busy catching up on the news with Emma, Robert and Deborah are walking together behind the girls, and Uncle Jimmy helps hold the hand of little Chloe.  I walk next to Alice and Emma tries to include me in their conversation as much as possible, which I’m grateful for.  If Alice feels like a big sister to me, Emma is someone I would befriend if we studied in the same school (even though I don’t think I’m intelligent enough to attend those super elite institutions she studied at!).

It doesn’t seem that Alice has given away anything about Tom and me (okay, there’s nothing to give away, okay?  Okay?) but Emma mentions at one point, “Oh wait, so  _you_ are the Julia Tom has been babbling on about!”

Alice raises an eyebrow at that piece of information.

“Ah, I guess?  He may know a lot of Julia’s?” I blink.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s you.  Every time when he sends me a text these days, it’s always Julia said this Julia said that!” Emma giggles again.  I’m starting to like her cute giggles.

I widen my eyes at her in mock terror, “I hope it’s not anything crazy that I’ve said!”

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Emma waves my words off, still chuckling.  “It’s usually some funny things you said or something he thinks that is meaningful.”

I stick my tongue out playfully, “I don’t remember saying any of those.  Don’t believe anything he tells you about me.”

The animals in the zoo really take away a lot of memory in my SD card.  I’d better clear them out on my computer when I’m back in my room this evening.  Chloe is getting quite attached to me as the hours go by, she even insists in sitting next to me again during lunch.  Deborah jokes that it should give me the opportunity to practice before I have my own kids soon.  Woah, I don’t know…it’s always more fun to play with other kids who are not yours, I guess.  I haven’t thought about children yet.

Tom arrives shortly after 3pm or so and surprises everybody.

“What are you doing here?” Uncle Jimmy shakes his hand like a gentleman and pats his arm with another hand.  “It’s getting late and we’ll head back home for dinner soon!  Why spend on the ticket for such a short visit?”

“Nahhh it’s okay,” Tom grins.  “It’s always good to support the local zoo anyway.”  He smiles at everyone now, Matilda runs to him and he picks her up, “Hey, you.  Been a good girl today?”

“Yes,” Matilda murmurs as she holds Tom around his neck and buries her face behind his head.  She is probably starting to feel a bit tired from all the walking today.  Chloe has been sleeping for at least 2 hours in her stroller after lunch.

Tom only nods at me once to greet me at the moment he arrives at the zoo but I resume my tag-along position when he starts walking alongside the family with Matilda falling asleep, hanging her head over his shoulder.  He is in his usual friendly character again.  I don’t think too much about it but yes, it does feel different, a lot different from yesterday.  I don’t even mean that kind of difference when you are more polite to the others in front of your relatives, but it almost feels like…is he avoiding me?  Whenever I try to say something to him, he would give very short answers and then he’ll go ahead to talk to someone else, and the conversation feels rather one-way – he hasn’t asked me anything at all, not how my day has been or if I’m having fun.  And it feels as if he is trying to keep the greatest distance from me because when I’m walking in the front, I would find him at the back of the group, and vice versa.

But that’s ridiculous, if he’s avoiding me, what the hell is he doing here?  He can simply choose not to come.


	16. Slip

Dinner will be at Uncle Jimmy’s this evening.  At 4:15pm or so, everyone is ready to go there to have a rest before the meal.  Robert is driving his family and Uncle Jimmy back to Putney but since there are too many of us, Tom makes a call for a taxi to pick the rest of us up.  Nobody wants to spend another hour on public transportation with our sore legs and backs.

It’s more or less a 30-minute car ride.  Tom sits in the front and we 3 girls sit in the back.  I sit directly behind the driver with Emma next to me.  We are all so exhausted that no one talks that much in the taxi.  I try to rest my head against the window and Emma does the same on Alice’s shoulder.  Tom is busy swiping and tapping on his phone, I’m pretty sure he’s on Twitter because it’s been more than once that I’ve seen him on that page whenever he’s reading something on his mobile.  But that means we haven’t even really talked to each other since his arrival at the zoo, except if you count “buckle up!” when we get in the taxi.

I must have nodded off on our way to Putney.  A notification beep signaling an incoming text on Emma’s phone wakes me up, and I find my face pressed hard against the window glass.  I’m glad to find that I haven’t been drooling in my sleep.  I run my fingers through my hair and push it behind my ear, I tidy my side bangs and look through the windshield, trying to work out where we are – well, it’s not like I know my way well around London but it’s natural to look that way.  I blink hard to try to be more awake and then try to focus on the driver and the steering wheel…only to notice a pair of eyes looking back at me in the rear-view mirror. 

He quickly looks away and taps on his phone again as soon as he notices I’m well awake and am looking back at him.  I look away too, turn away and have my eyes fixed on the pedestrians and streets that rush by the window.  I play dumb to pretend that I haven’t seen Tom peek at me, but even though with my eyes looking outside, I can still sense his eyes on me in the mirror.  It makes me wonder how long he has been looking at me because I wouldn’t know it when I was asleep, and now he is still staring when I’m awake.  I look everywhere but the mirror.

Soon we’re in Putney and Tom pays the driver.  It’s over £30 if I see it correctly.  Everybody gets off the taxi and proceeds to the house; I can understand for Emma and Alice, since they’re Tom’s family, they may be used to it.  But since I am not, after the car has left, I tap on Tom’s arm and ask, “Hey, how much do I owe you?” 

He looks puzzled for a moment and then exclaims quietly, “Oh!  Don’t worry about it!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s taken care of.” He keeps his distance and starts walking towards the house with his hands in his pockets.  “Are you coming in?”

I mumble, “Yeah,” and start walking behind him with my head down.  I don’t know what to think of him because I’m really so super confused.  Was I only dreaming when we had that fantastic time and he’s my new best friend?  Was _that_ an act or is _this_ an act?  He’s been quite different towards me since last evening.  Or is he ashamed of our friendship so he wants to conceal it from the others? 

Robert’s car is already parked on the side of the road in front of the house, so they have arrived before we do.  I am the last to walk into the house and Tom closes the door for me.  Alice and Emma heads upstairs together obviously discussing something, I guess Alice wants to show Emma something in her room.  Robert is in the living room with the two girls, who seem to have regained their energy after their nap and rest in the car, and are now taking out some dolls to play with on the coffee table.  Deborah and Uncle Jimmy are in the kitchen preparing the dinner.  I want to go play with Chloe but then Tom, who is in front of me, turns to enter the living room to greet Robert.  I don’t really feel like being in the same room with Tom right now so I head to the kitchen instead, asking Uncle Jimmy, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Oh you can just go take a rest in the living room, love.”  Deborah says, bending down to take vegetables out from the fridge like tomatoes and potatoes.  “We get everything under control.”

“I really can help, please let me.” I take a step forward.  I’d rather be here than feeling awkward around Tom.

“That’s so sweet of you.  Okay, well you can help cut these, into slices, okay?” Deborah goes and fetches me a cutting board and a knife.  She tries to clear the table a little bit and place them there, and then gives me some carrots, celery and 3 onions.  “There will be more later but let me wash those first.  You can start with these, alright, love?”

“Okay, I’ll do that.” I pick up some of the vegetables and rinse them under the tap, and I start with the easiest – the celery.  For the carrots I’ll need a peeler, which Deborah has forgotten to give me but I don’t want to bother her for now so I start cutting the onions.  I am fine with the first one, but when I’ve cut the ends of the second one and peeled it, my eyes start to tear up.  I try to step back a little bit from the cutting board so my head is not directly hovering above it but I guess it’s too late, I keep cutting while from time to time I try to wipe away the tears with my arm or on my shoulders.  Neither Deborah nor Uncle Jimmy has the time to notice that, since I have my back towards them and of course I try to hide the stupid fact that I am crying from the onions.  I’m sure my eyes are pretty irritated now because they’re stinging rather badly.  I sniff and do my best to grit my teeth through the second and third onion, but that’s when Tom decides to walk in and see me in that state, with me facing the kitchen door.

“It’s smelling good!  And Deb – ”  Tom strides in with a big grin with his hands on the either side of the door frame, and then he sees me and is taken aback , “Woah, what’s wrong?”

I sniff again and pick up a halved onion to show him with a stupid grin, probably looking even more stupid than I intend to because I am crying and smiling at the same time.  Deborah turns around to Tom with a wooden spoon in her hand, “What happened?”

Tom points his chin at me and Deborah goes, “Oh dear.”  She shakes her head and stifles a giggle, “There’s a trick for that actually.  But are you okay?”

“Yes, I’d just deal with it and cry like a man.” I wipe my cheeks again with my shoulders.

Tom walks towards Deborah and takes the wooden spoon out from her grip, “Your little girl is asking her mummy.  Just tell me what to do.”

“It’s just chicken parmigiana.  The sauce is almost ready and the chicken should be too…?” Deborah arches her back to look at Uncle Jimmy past Tom.

“Yep!  All golden and crisp!” Uncle Jimmy flips one of the chicken breasts to check.

“Alright, I know what to do.  Go.” Tom gives Deborah a light push on her arm.

“Spaghetti is in the pot!” Deborah yells over her shoulder on her way out.

“Go.” Uncle Jimmy and Tom answer in unison.

I keep cutting the onions on the cutting board with clacks, with sniff in between.  Tom, though still feeling a bit distant, smiles at me with his eyes and offers, “Hey, you come and keep an eye on the sauce while I finish your mess.”

“No, I can do it.” I blink my tears away and focus on the onion like it’s my sworn enemy.

“You’d better get there before the sauce burns,” Tom is not giving me a choice.  He already abandons the sauce and is standing next to me, preparing to take over.  “You’re cutting too slowly anyway, we need to make the soup soon!”

With a pout, I pick up the wooden spoon resting in the pot and stir the sauce a little bit, inhaling the nice sauce that makes my mouth water, even though my eyes are still watering.

“Thank you, darling.  You can give me that.” Uncle Jimmy has finished with the chicken and now he needs the sauce.  “Now would you be a sweetheart and help me with the cheese?  Use the fine side for the parmesan and the coarse side for the mozzarella.”  He points at grater next to a wedge of parmesan and a ball of mozzarella.

“Sure thing, Uncle Jimmy.”

After some clanking of pots inside one of the lower cabinets, Tom finds the one he wants and now he’s cooking the vegetables with it.  I can’t help but sneak a peek – I have to admit, a man who looks confident in the kitchen is extraordinary sexy.  That’s one of the things I love about Jeff too, he always looks so happy in the kitchen whenever he has the time to cook.  Tom, on the other hand, attracts me in a different way.  He looks…more focused.

“Uncle Jimmy, why don’t you go ahead and sit down a little bit outside, you’ve done enough for the day.”  Tom says suddenly.  I agree with him because it’s not nice to ask an old man to do so much and stand up for such a long time. 

Uncle Jimmy considers it for 2 seconds and decides that he can indeed use a break.  He places his hand on Tom’s back lovingly and asks, “Are you fine with things here?  There should not be too many things left to do.”

“Yes I am, please join them in the living room and I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

I smile at Uncle Jimmy when he walks past in front of me, both out of politeness and also because I feel all warm and fuzzy inside from the way Tom treats his family.

I try to ignore the fact that Tom and I are the only ones left in the kitchen and finish the parmesan with ease but with the mozzarella, it is another story because it’s usually quite difficult to grate soft cheese.  I am not used to be in the kitchen so I am actually quite proud of myself that I’m helping out and being useful here.  So far I’ve succeeded in grating half of the mozzarella but when Tom bends down in front of the refrigerator to look for something (I suspect he’s looking for some chicken stock cubes), I get distracted by his…erm…okay I’m ashamed to say this, but I am distracted by his nice derriere.

“Ow!” I try to be as quiet as possible because I don’t want to alarm anyone with my stupidity and clumsiness.

A grater, soft cheese, and Tom’s behind aren’t the recipe for a perfect ending.  I check my fingers to see if I’ve cut myself…it seems that it has grazed my skin a little bit but at least it’s not deep enough to bleed.  Tom is by my side in a flash and is examining my hand carefully, narrowing his eyes close to my fingers.

“I’m fine,” I whisper.

He takes no notice of my claim and keeps turning my hand and looks at it from different angles to double-check.

“You’d better go check on the soup, Tom.” I remind him.

“Oh!” He hurries to the pot and pour some more water in it, twist the knob to lower the heat.  He comes back to me with nothing but concern in his eyes, “I’ll take care of the cheese.  Let’s keep your fingers, shall we?  You can stir the soup from time to time if you still want to help.”

I say nothing and do as he instructs.  I stand in front of the stove and stare at the pot, deep in thought.  I don’t understand.  He was still quite cold just some moments ago, where does this warmness come from?  So does it only show when he and I are alone?  So was I right, to think that he’s ashamed of me as a friend of his?

I don’t even know what he’s done but it seems that he’s now on the last step of cooking the chicken when he says, “Excuse me,” and slides a tray of chicken breasts covered in grated cheese into the oven.  I return to my original spot as soon as he closes the oven door, never thinking that would actually place myself narrowly between him and the stove.  Before I realize how big a mistake I’ve just made, Tom gently puts his left hand on my waist and takes the wooden spoon out of my right hand in one swift move.  He leans a little bit forward so now his chest is pressing against my back, and he brings the spoon to his mouth carefully to have a small sip, checking if it tastes okay. 

“Hmm,” that throaty noise vibrates next to my ear more closely than ever, and it’s giving me goose bumps.   “Perfect.”  He declares.  Then he brings the spoon in front of my face, “Try and see what you think.”

I gingerly try to find a spot on the handle to steady the spoon and take a sip, even though I don’t think I am good enough to tell any difference because I suck at cooking and my taste buds are not sensitive at all.  On top of that, how am I supposed to think straight with Tom standing so close behind me?

“Mmm, good!” I lie, after tasting that little sip.  In fact, I don’t even know how it really tastes.  Tom puts the spoon back into the pot and keeps stirring, while never letting his hand leave my waist or moving an inch away from me.  I am freaking out inside and I am also scared of anyone walking in on us.

“Ah, Tom?” I mutter softly.  “…Personal space?”

Tom doesn’t say anything.  Instead, he leaves the spoon in the pot and he gives me a tight hug around my shoulders from behind, resting his head on top of mine.  I freeze, not knowing what I should do.

“I miss you,” Tom whispers, almost inaudibly. 

“But why?  We saw each other yesterday, and we just came back from the zoo together.”

“…You don’t understand.  I miss you.”  Tom kisses the crown of my head.

“Tom, can you just – “ I protest again, I am getting really uncomfortable with how close he is.

“I’m starving!” A young, female voice approaches the kitchen with quickening footsteps and Tom and I quickly jump away from each other.  We are just in time when Emma enters the room, followed by Alice.  Tom returns his attention to the soup, stirring rather absent-mindedly, while I now have nothing to do so I find random stuff on the kitchen countertops to put into the sink.  Emma hops towards the stove and looks over Tom’s shoulder, “Hmmm that smells GREAT!”  Alice stays close to the door and observes the whole picture.  She’s obviously thinking that something is off in it.  I avoid her eyes as best as I can, but I guess that makes me look even guiltier.  Tom is doing even worse: he totally dismisses her presence on purpose.

Tom and I manage to finish supper without even a word between us, well, not sitting next to each other helps too.  Chloe certainly likes sitting next to me, as now I’ve also become her official unofficial babysitter whenever we eat.

We are now clearing the dining table and Alice is about to take the bread basket back into the kitchen.  I am picking the butter dishes up when she stops next to me abruptly, “Julia.”

My body tenses at her tone, I almost instantly know what she wants.

“We need to talk.”


	17. Are you ready?

We stack the things on the table inside the kitchen, and let Tom, Robert and Emma get busy with the dishes.  Alice leads me outside, prudently, to the backyard and together we each take a lounge chair.  It’s getting chilly so I’m glad to find a thin fleece blanket roughly folded on my chair.  I give it a good shake before sitting down and pulling it on top of myself.  I try to relax and rest my back against the chair because Alice is making me feel a bit uneasy.

“So…” I start, sounding as if I were scared of being heard, even though we’re the only two outside of the house.

“…Julia, you know you can be honest and tell me anything, don’t you?” Alice replies, after a pause that lasts a bit too long.

“Of course, you’re one of my closest friends.” I say automatically, whereas I _know_ and _dread_ the words or questions that are going to come out from her mouth.

“What’s going on between you and Tom?” She asks, in a rather flat tone, without any hint of annoyance or accusation.  It genuinely sounds like she simply wants to know.

I take in a deep breath, “Well, like I told you before, nothing’s going on between me and Tom.  We’re friends and that’s it – friends only.”

“Julia,” Alice sits up from her chair, supports herself by grabbing one of the armrests with both hands.  “Please.  I just want to help.”

I glance at her silhouette with her back facing the light from the house and realize that she can see my face well but it’s not the same case for me.  It feels uncomfortable to look at a dark shadow with a bright background so I stare straight ahead again at the bushes, “What do you mean?  I don’t see anything for anyone to help with.”

“Stop it, don’t patronize me.” Alice snaps, softly but firmly.  “I know what I saw.  First there was yesterday, and then something was wrong too in the kitchen earlier before we walked in.”

“It was nothing,” I lower my head and say to the blanket.

“God!  And I thought it’d be easier to talk to you than confront Tom.  I should drag _him_ here to hear what he’s got to say!” Alice stands up suddenly.

“Wait!” I yell.  The last thing I want to do is to cause a scene and bring Tom troubles.  Alice stops and looks at me, but she’s not sitting back down.  I sigh, “Don’t you trust me, Alice?”

She slumps back in the chair and takes a deep breath, “Yes, Julia.  Yes –“

I interrupt her before she can continue, “Then you should trust me that I will never do anything to hurt Jeff.  I _know_ I’ll be someone’s wife and I won’t let anything happen between Tom and me, you got it?”

“Yes, yes, I got it.” Alice is only sitting on the edge of the chair, facing me.  “But I’m not sure if Tom’s got it.”

“What?” I frown.

“He…I’ve seen that look in his eyes before.  He likes you, much more than a normal friend should.”

“You’re thinking too much.”  These words come out from me even though this has been my suspicion all along.

 “I hope I am, I really do.  But if I’m right, there won’t be a happy ending for anybody.  It’d better stop before it grows.”

“What do you want me to do?  Just walk up to him and go ‘hey I don’t know if you are attracted to me, but please don’t’?  What if he really doesn’t?  How stupid and conceited would I sound?” I gesture wildly and the blanket flies to my waist.  “Look, there is only a week left for me to be here anyway.  And I’ll probably never see Tom ever again after I’m gone.”

Alice takes the time to let my words sink in, “True.  But what does your heart tell you?  Do you really want to leave things hanging like this?  Won’t you be bothered by it later on?”

I let out a silent sigh, “I don’t know…I guess, well, _c’est la vie_ , right?  Besides, I really don’t want to lose a friend over this.  Once you’ve asked, everything will be changed, forever.”

Dead silence.  I don’t have any other things to say, while it feels like Alice still has a whole lot on her mind.  She isn’t relaxing and is sitting up straight, staring off into space.  I patiently wait for her next words.  “Can you…” she looks up and gazes at me.  “Can you do it for me then?  Or, for Tom?   Just make sure he hasn’t fallen for you and he never will…and to let him know that you’re already taken.  Make it explicit so that he can understand right away…”

“Alice, how the hell am I supposed to do that?  I can’t control how he feels…and why are you so convinced that there is a need to tell him such a thing?” I sit up from my lounge chair.

She rests her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands.  She muffles a sigh and let her hands move down along her face, “Because I know him.  And I can see that in his eyes.  I really, really don’t want him to be hurt again.”

I feel dizzy.  I’m supposed to be on VACATION, and now I’ve got all this pressure put on me!  WHY DO I NEED TO TELL TOM NOT TO LIKE ME?  Why am I suddenly become the one who is responsible for everybody’s eternal happiness?

The soft creak of the door makes me hold my breath just before I want to tell Alice how absurd she’s being. 

“Excuse me,” Tom speaks in his usual soothing voice, with a hand holding the doorknob and the other on the doorframe.  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Both Alice and I shake our heads hurriedly and go, “Oh nononono you’re not.”

He smiles at both of us and turns his attention to me, “Well, Emma’s leaving with Robert and Deborah, and I’m going to call a cab.  Do you want to share the ride?”

“Uh, sure.” I take the blanket off me and stand up.  “I’ll go get ready.”

“Alright, cool.” Tom sings as he walks back into the house.

Alice grabs my arm when I walk past her.  Now that with her face lit by the light from the open door, I can see everything clearly – her frown, the concern and worry in her eyes, but on top of everything, the plea that’s screaming silently on her face. 

I throw my head back and shut my eyes, then I look back down at Alice, who is still sitting on the edge of the chair.  “Okay,” I sigh.  “I’ll try but I can’t promise anything.”

“Thank you.” Alice whispers, releasing her grip.

“But if there’s any sign, or anything that tells me that your speculation is wrong, I will _not_ risk ruining the friendship I have with him.  Alright?”

She nods her head, “Of course, of course.”

I walk into the house, with Alice following behind.

Soon the taxi is here.  Tom, being the gentleman as always, helps me into my sweater and we head out into the chilly London night.  He even opens the door for me but since I’m not really used to such chivalry, I slide along the backseat quickly intending to make room for him, only to feel super stupid when the door is closed behind me and I can hear him walk to the other side of the car.  I slide back to my original spot just as he opens the door.  I can see the taxi driver looking at me in the rear-view mirror.

“To Earl’s Court first, please.” Tom instructs the driver politely.  I think he must have told them both of our destinations when he made the phone call.  We both fasten our seatbelts and Tom tries to start a lighthearted conversation, “I spent quite some time looking for you, I didn’t know that you went out in the backyard!  What were you two doing there?”

“To freeze our asses off,” I stick my tongue out with a smile, not looking at him.

“You girls are crazy,” he shakes his head lightly, putting a finger on top of his curved lips.

I steal a quick glance at him and add, “It’s our girly secret.”

Tom chuckles.  _Alice, how can I ask him that?  Just how?  You tell me!_

“Hey do you cook often?  You really know your way around the kitchen!”

 “Me?” He’s grinning from ear to ear.  “Thanks but I’m not as good as I’d like to be.  I try, nevertheless.  There are still so many things I would love to learn – cooking is fascinating!  Do you cook?”

I roll my eyes at him, “What do you think?”

“Ehehehehehee!”

_All I want to do is to laugh with him.  And see him laugh like this.  I don’t want to take that away._

He quickly recovers, his eyes before his lips, “Ehehe, but even best chefs have accidents in the kitchen from time to time!”

“Oh believe me, I usually don’t even WALK into a kitchen.  Our… _qi_ must clash or something.  Either I hurt myself or I hurt the food.”

He pats me on my shoulder and his hand lingers on with a playful smirk, “You know what I think?  You probably only need more practice.  It’s not that difficult, I promise.”

“I’m more stupid than you may think,” I tighten my lips into a long, thin line.

“Nonsense!” He squeezes lightly on my arm and rests his hand between us on the seat.  “I’m sure you’ll be great.  Mark my words.”

_No.  I can’t bring that topic up.  I can’t talk to him about it now – it doesn’t feel right.  When can I talk to him about it?_

“By the way,” I begin again, after a short pause.  “I’ve never seen that side of her but it feels like Alice sees you as her own little brother rather than a cousin.”

“Yeah, my older sister Sarah is pretty close to Alice when they grew up together.  And I guess when Sarah went to India, Alice picked up the role of being my own big sister – she really looks after me, sometimes she can be even more protective than my mom is!”

“I can tell that she enjoys taking care of the others.  She did the same too when we were working together.  I often felt like I got myself an older sister who I can share stories with and gossip with…we would even try our best to make time from work and just to go out and have fun.”  I look out of the window and a smile creeps up on my face from the lovely memories.

We sit there in silence for a bit but it feels totally comfortable doing so.  It isn’t that kind of awkward silence when you don’t know what to say, it’s the kind of “we’re comfortable with each other so it’s okay not to _need_ to fill the quietness with talking” silence.  Tom reaches over for my hand which I’ve laid on my lap.  It takes me by surprise but I let him have it.  He plays with my hand for a few seconds before lacing his fingers through mine.

_That shakes my belief somehow.  I would have seen it as an innocent gesture if Alice hasn’t said those shit to me.  Should I confront Tom about it?  I mean, if I really care about him enough, I probably should do it just so that he doesn’t need to waste any of his feelings on me.  But how, how can I say it?_

“Where in Earl’s Court do you want to get off at?” The taxi driver asks us.  Damn, I don’t have enough time to talk to Tom about anything.

“At the tube station, please.” Tom replies for me.

I’m running out of time!  “Tom,” I’d better come up with something fast.  “You wanna hang out tomorrow?  I mean, will you be busy with work and stuff?”

Tom’s eyes twinkle with delight, “Hey I’m glad you ask!  It’s actually my day off tomorrow but I’d like to stay in.  So…would you like to come over to my place?”

_It’s the first time ever I initiate something and he is inviting me to his place.  Okay, okay, my secret fangirl self please shut up!  Stop yelling in my head!  STAY NORMAL._

 “Ah, yeah, sure,” I stammer.

“Lovely,” he gestures with my fingers still intertwined with his.  “You can pop in anytime, I should be there for the whole day.  I’ll send you my address later and tell you how to get there.”

“Okay,” I smile back, squeezing _his_ hand as I do so.  I turn to look out of the window feeling all warm and fuzzy inside because I feel so secure with him.  He’s such a great person who effortlessly makes people feel at ease around him.

Just before I need to get out of the taxi, he pulls me towards him and kisses on my cheek.  “See you tomorrow!” He waves as I close the door. 

Maybe I’ll feel different after I’ve got married.  But it’s moment like this that makes me secretly wish that I were still single because you never know who you’ll meet later in life.  I only decided to draw the line and stop thinking about the future possibilities because I feel like it is time for me to get married.  You can’t keep asking yourself “what if” for the rest of your life or else you aren’t going to accomplish anything, since you’ll be forever waiting for something, or, you may be waiting for nothing!  How could I have ever expected to meet Tom Hiddleston though?  But the line is drawn and there’s no turning back.  I made a promise to someone else and I should keep it.  If Alice is right, then I really should be fair to Tom and make things clear between us.

Jeff sounds really happy to talk to me online that night.  I tell him about the zoo and the dinner and he is so proud of me that I helped out in the kitchen because he knows that I don’t and I can’t cook.  He’s the most adorable fiancé too when he kisses my boo-boo on webcam to make it feel better!  Ah…that’s why I’m marrying this man.  He’s always trying to make sure I feel happy and protected.  When I go “AWWWW!” at his kissy face, he’s like, “Oh, you like?  You should keep it!” and instantly makes a screenshot and sends it to me, which makes me giggle non-stop like a schoolgirl.  Oh gosh I love him! 

I love him so much that I can’t tell him that I’m going to Tom’s place tomorrow because I don’t want him to freak out.  When he asks, “So what’s your plan for tomorrow?” I scratch my head and reply, “Hmm…I don’t know, I’ll see.”  I feel a bit guilty about it but well, it’s for his own good.  I don’t want him to think anything crazy over there in Montreal while I’m all the way in London. 

After Jeff goes offline, I spend at least half an hour pacing back and forth in my tiny hotel room…I really, REALLY hope that Alice is wrong.  I don’t want to lose such a good friend because of stupid assumptions.  Would tomorrow be the end of our friendship?  Would he never talk to me again?  Why show me a glimpse of heaven and then tell me, “nope you can’t go there”?

My phone buzzes and Tom’s sent me his address and detailed description of how to get there.  I refresh my email inbox and find the same message too.

Okay, so tomorrow it is.


	18. Procrastination

The alarms aren’t supposed to go off for another 2 hours but I’m already too awake to go back to sleep.  It’s still early so I guess I can still laze around in bed for some more…I _think_  I had a nightmare, but I don’t really remember what it was.  I remember the feeling though, it was stuffy, suffocating, with nowhere to escape…or it’s like standing in the middle of a desert highway and you don’t know which way to go.  I was probably trapped inside the dream though because I didn’t, or couldn’t wake up until the sun was about to come up and I was drenched in sweat by then.

It only takes me 15 minutes before I decide it’s a stupid idea to keep lying in bed because all I do is staring into thin air and Tom keeps popping in my head – it’s starting to feel ridiculous.  I keep getting emails in my inbox these days to remind me to do this and do that and from what I’ve heard, all brides are meant to be unbelievably busy at this stage.  We should be going to final fittings, confirm with the caterers and bands and flowers, hanging out in the spa and beauty parlor, booking more hair treatment sessions, etc., etc.  But here I am, looking dazed in a foreign hotel room, not feeling like a bride-to-be that much at all.  I need to clear my head.  I need to go out for a jog.

 

Of course, not being the sporty type, this is not even something I am used to do.  I only jog around a few blocks before I feel a bit worried that I may get lost if I go too far so I turn back.  I don’t  know if that has even lasted for 15 minutes.  And I haven’t thought much on my planned subject because I was too concentrated on where I was going.  I return to my room and keep thinking what to say to Tom later on.  Would it feel more casual to go there at around 10?  Should I bring something over?  I pull out the tiny Tube Map from my jeans’ pocket and try to memorize the way to get there – where to change trains and which lines to take.  Argh I’m really NOT ready for this!  I don’t even know why I’ve agreed to do this.  I can’t help but start to hope that there’ll at least be a dog or something at his place so I can have something to turn my attention to when things become uncomfortable.

**Rise and shine my little darling!  When will you be here?  I can cook for you ;) x T**

I don’t know how fast it usually takes for goose bumps to appear but mine surely take no time at all when my phone vibrates and I see this message from Tom.  Can you please stop being so nice to me?  I don’t know how long I can hold my feelings back. 

_STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP!!!!_

_What the hell are you thinking, Julia?  If there’s anything, you are supposed to STOP it, not to encourage it or to take part in it._

I gotta do it.  Just get it over with.  I text Tom back:

**I’ll get ready and should leave in about 15 mins.  See you soon :)**

Having butterflies in my stomach would be an understatement because it’s definitely tied in knots instead – I’m so nervous on my way to Tom’s place that I feel like I need to try to focus on not throwing up.  I try to keep taking quiet deep breath when I am on the train, and it’s only 2 stations away from the one Tom told me to get off when he texts me again:

**Are you here yet? x T**

I wait until it’s almost my stop and send:

**Getting off the metro now :)**

I’ve only walked out from the tube station when my phone vibrates again – I have it in my jeans pocket because I need to keep reading the instructions Tom gave me the night before.  He has given me really detailed description and I have no troubles finding my way at all.  He keeps texting me from time to time to see if I am okay, though. 

Soon I make a turn and am now walking along a street with lots of brick buildings.  I keep looking to my left and right while I am striding on the pavement between parked cars and doors / shop windows.  Ah, here it is.  I double-check the street number Tom gave me and find myself looking up the fancy gold plated numbers that are shown above a huge glass double door.  The entrance shows a small lobby with shiny marble tiles and a small chandelier is hung above the security guard, who raises his head from his station and narrows his eyes at me suspiciously through the glass door.  Before I can shove my phone back into my pocket, it vibrates again:

**Are you here yet are you here yet are you here yet?**

Since I’ve already arrived, I am not going to reply to it.  I ignore the man in the glittering lobby and study the equally fancy-looking intercom outside the entrance.

After two failed trials, I’ve succeeded in attracting enough attention from the security guard.  He is just on his way out when I finally get Tom on the speaker.

“Hi, it’s me.  I’m here!” I lean forward to the intercom, trying not to make any eye contact with the guard.

“Okay, let me buzz you up.”

“Thanks.” I press  _Cancel_  when I’m done and suddenly realize there is a little camera on the intercom and realize I must have looked stupid with me being so close to it earlier.

“Can I help you?” The guard pushes open the door and asks.

“Ah, I’m visiting my –“ I point at the intercom.

“Which flat?” He doesn’t wait until I’m finished.  Ass.

“3B.”

“Who are you visiting?” He’s quite intimidating.

“Tom.  Ah, Mr. Hiddleston.”

He stops leaning forward against the door handle and straightens up, gives me one last glance before turning to his station, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Ah, he knows I’m here.  I just talked to him, you heard that.”

“No I didn’t.  I’ll just give him a call myself to check.  Please wait,” He raises his forefinger to hush me as he picks up the receiver of the phone that is on top of desk.

Sigh.  Well, at least he’s worth the salary, I guess.

After some “Uh-huhs”, “Yes, sir” and “no problem”, suddenly that man  _smiles_  at me and escorts me to the elevator.  Another solid proof of the different worlds we’re living in, Tom.  It’s not just how we live, it’s also how the others treat us.

I knock on the door and Tom answers it in 2 seconds.  He must have been expecting me anyway.  When he opens the door, his hair looks slightly tussled and his shirt has at least 3 buttons undone – it looks like he’s just thrown a shirt on right before he opens the door, but that’s impossible because he’s been checking where I was and he knew when I arrived downstairs.  “Hey you,” he gives me a sheepish grin and opens the door wide to invite me inside.

His apartment is bright and cozy with some old-fashioned furniture like a grandma’s sofa and an antique cabinet but it also comes with a modern touch, like some of his futuristic-looking gadgets and minimalistic kitchenware. 

I take off my shoes and follow him into the living room.  I did manage to buy a box of chocolates before I came here so I retrieve it from my bag and hand it to Tom.  His eyes widen in disbelief at first but then he chuckles, still holding up the box, “Oh my  _god_ , this is my favorite!  How do you know?  Thank you!”

“Erm, actually, I don’t know.  I thought the box looks great,” I confess, scratching my head.

“Thank you, thank you!” He gives me a half-hug when he walks somewhere to put it down.

The kettle starts whistling in the kitchen at that moment and he hurriedly gestures to the sofa, “Please make yourself at home.  I’ll make us some tea.”  The next thing I know is that I hear water being poured, and the chinking of the china cups, and some rustling of some plastic bags.  I pick a corner of the sofa to sit in and put my bag on the floor next to my feet, still feeling rather nervous but not as much as before because of the calmness in this place.

“Voila!” He sings from behind me and I turn around – and see Tom carrying a tray of a porcelain tea set and a plate of what seems to be ginger biscuits.  Smoke is coming out from the tea pot and I can smell the aroma of the unmistakable Earl Grey.  His choice of china is nice too – it looks both traditional but with a modern touch.  It’s not all feminine and flowery but instead it’s delicate, white with swirly decorative details all around.

He carefully fills both of our cups and offers me some biscuits.  Somehow it makes me feel like he is an older brother who is used to taking care of the others.  The cup is a bit too hot for me to pick up so I nibble on the biscuit with another hand cupped below to catch the crumbles.  He’s sitting next to me, with one leg folded under the other thigh, and he’s resting his elbow on the back of the sofa looking at me, holding his cup of tea next to his lips.

“How’s your stay in London so far?” He starts.

“Good, very good.  Definitely have done more than I expected or planned to.”  _Oh god you have no idea._

“I’m glad to hear it,” he puts his cup down on the coffee table.  “Hey do you want some milk with your tea?”

“Oh no I’m fine.”  This is getting a little bit awkward.  I’ll just find something to talk about…it’s not the time yet to burst out Alice’s suspicion.  “Hey you’ve got quite a mean guard down there.”

Tom laughs, “Oh George?  Ehehee he’s like that.  He’s actually a softie under that mean look but he does his job really well.”

“Oh yes definitely.  I was sure he heard me talking to you on the intercom but he said he didn’t!  He even hushed me when he called you from his station.  So mean!” I pout.

“Aww I’m sorry!  I’ll make sure he won’t give you any troubles when you’re here again.” Tom assures.   _What?  When did I ever say anything about coming here again?_

My cheeks start to heat up and I smile, “thank you.”

He pauses for a few seconds, then he tilts his head to one side, “It’s lovely to have you here, I was so happy when you asked.  But you haven’t come here to talk about George, have you?”

I cringe at the question.  It’s really difficult to tell him!  Tom waits for my reply and then he starts looking at me with his puppy dog eyes and slight frown.

You see, whenever I’m nervous and feeling uncomfortable, I tend to make a joke to lighten things up.  I start giggling at the look on his face, “Tom, you know you can get away with anything with those eyes?  Stop it!”

Tom, feeling more encouraged, exaggerates his puppy dog eyes even more, leaning closer to me to try to hypnotize me with them.

“Stop it!” I repeat, giving him a playful push on his shoulders.  I mock him by doing the same face (even though I’m pretty sure I look awful and it’s nothing like Tom’s) and use my high-pitched voice, “I’m Tom Hiddleston and I am cuuute,” I cup my cheeks with my palms.  “Can I have some pudding pleeease?  Pretty pleeeaase?”

Tom laughs so much that he almost chokes on his biscuit.  He clears his throat and protests, “I’m sure I don’t sound like that!”

“Oh please, watch your own interviews.” I smirk.

“Why are you so cruel?”  He pouts, doing the puppy dog  _again_.

I pretend to cover my eyes and turn my head away from him.  “Not gonna work on me not gonna work on me…” I chant.

 _Have I got my BFF back?_ Somehow that “vibe” has gone again and it makes me have second thoughts on doing what Alice asked me to.  I chicken and decide not to have “that talk” with him because I really don’t want to ruin our friendship!  I’ve lost at least 2 guy friends over some silly stuff like this.  I’m serious, once you ask, even though you may agree or keep telling yourself that you are still friends, you’ll definitely start to drift apart after that.  And some years later you won’t even be in touch at all.  Just because you “need to make sure”.  I don’t want to lose Tom too.

“Hey I’m going to have my whole day off, so we can take it easy and do whatever…do you want to watch a film?”

“Sure!” I am going to agree to anything as long as I don’t need to think about the reason I’m here.

“Since you’re the guest, you can go take a look at what you’d like to see,” he shows me his DVDs and Blu-rays.  Being a cinephile, he has quite a big collection of movies.  There are quite a lot of classics and serious movies so imagine my shock when I spot  _Click_ starring Adam Sandler.  I take that out, “Have you borrowed it from someone else and forgot to return it?”

“Why, no.”  He smiles with a confused frown.

“You don’t look like the type who’d see this movie!”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I’m interested in a lot of things!  Have you watched that one before?”

“A lot of times, I like the message.  I’ve shown it to some of my students too and they had a very good discussion after it.”

“Actually I haven’t got the chance to watch it yet.  I forgot that it’s even there!  Do you recommend it?”

“Hmm…I have quite a silly taste in movies so I’m not the best person to ask…”

“Do YOU like it?” Tom lifts his right eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Let’s watch this one then.  Unless you want to watch something else?  Or something that you haven’t watched before?”

“Oh nonono it’s okay.  I’d love to see if you’ll also like it or not,” I give Tom the box for him to insert the disc into the player when I hop to the sofa.  I love watching movies, even more so at home, or, well, in a more comfortable setting.

Watching a comedy movie next to Tom is one of the best experiences in the world – he doesn’t hold his feelings back at all and lets out his adorable “ehehehehe” every time when there is a funny moment.  Sometimes he would laugh so much that he would throw his head back or slap on his knees too.  I think I may have spent more time stealing glances at him than looking at the screen.

It’s near to the end of the movie and I know this is where the sad parts are.  I must have watched this movie for at least 4 or 5 times before and I can almost recite most of the lines, but I still feel the tears in my eyes when Michael wanted to say something to his son but he didn’t hear it.  I try to hold them back by biting my lips and looking elsewhere, but I am a mess the second when he pulled out the napkin to his ex-wife that wrote, “Will you still love me in the morning?”  I sniff and wipe the tears away with my fingers, and sniff some more.

I hear a quiet “aw” from Tom and he gives me a tissue that he’s just pulled from the tissue box on the coffee table.  He pulls me towards him and I give in right away, sniffing in his arms while he gently rocks me to comfort me.

We finish the rest of the movie with my upper torso on his lap and my legs curled up on the sofa, his right arm idly draping over my waist and his left hand on my hair, combing my hair occasionally.


	19. Dam of Tears

Feeling the warmth from his body, I curl up like a baby and try my best to stop my tears from falling on his clothes as the credits roll on the screen.

He keeps playing with my hair and murmurs, “Please stop crying on my trousers, I don’t have many.” I giggle and playfully punch his thigh, which earns a soft “Ow” from Tom.

Can I stay forever like this?  With Tom and me being best friends.  It’s simple and not complicated.  Just here enjoying each other’s company and don’t need to care about what the others think – we don’t need to care about what Alice has said, nor what his fans may think, nor even…how Jeff reacts.

 

His fingers stop and suddenly I feel my head is being squished.  I stay still while he bends forward for the tissue box.  My eyes follow his hand back to his face and hey, “You’re crying!”  Tom raises his eyebrows with his eyes closed, says as-a-matter-of-factly, “What, can’t I cry?   _You_  are crying!”

“But I’m a girl, we cry all the time.”

“Sexist.”

“Huh.” 

My shoulders are starting to feel a bit sore from being stuck in a position for too long and I want to sit back up.

“Oh you, come back here.” Tom pulls me slightly to lay my head on his lap again.  I don’t fight back because, I want to enjoy the serenity and comfort.  I try to find a position where my shoulders would feel more relaxed.

None of us speaks when the credits are still rolling.  But when it’s almost the end, I want to talk to him about…what I should talk to him about.  I silently clear my throat and carefully say, “Hey…”

“I really like it when they can make a comedy to be this meaningful,” Tom speaks at the same time as I open my mouth, and he probably doesn’t hear me because I speak so softly.  I wait for him to continue, “I think it’s true, you know?  That we should cherish the present and cherish the people we’re with.  Sometimes you think things can wait but to be honest, you can never know.  We overlook things when we have our heads buried in business that we think is important…” He absent-mindedly strokes my hair again, “I don’t want to live with that kind of regret.  You only get to live once and you need to make sure that you don’t live with regrets.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Tomorrow is September 11 right?  Just think about it, on that day when it happened, who would have expected that it was the last time ever that they saw their loved ones?  Some chose to say ‘I love you’, but some others’ last words might be an argument or something nasty.  They might think that they still had all the time in the world but then suddenly, everything’s gone.”  He is in deep thought now.  “That’s why, we should live every day to its fullest and don’t live with regrets.”

I completely agree with everything he’s just said because those have been my other life mottos (apart from the “Do it yourself” one).  But now I don’t know how to find the opportunity to ask him again since he’s shunted the topic to such a different direction and it’s like, I shouldn’t say anything to disturb the moment when we should all appreciate the present.

“Alright, in order to treasure what we’ve got, we should eat!” Tom suddenly declares and gently smacks my shoulder.

“Huh?” I lift my head up.

“It’s lunchtime!”

I return to a sitting position and run my fingers through my hair to tidy it.  Tom gets up and heads towards the kitchen.  Without turning back, he says to me, “Hey you should come and help too, you’ll see it’s not that hard to cook.  I’ll show you!”

“Ah, okay.” I feel a bit dazed and only do as he says.

When I’m standing at the kitchen door, Tom is already busy checking the fridge and the cabinets for ingredients.  His long arms and elegant hands make it such a beautiful picture to look at.  He looks like as if he were waltzing around the room.

“What are we cooking?” I finally manage to stop staring and ask him.

“Hmm let’s see…” He bends down again at the opened fridge, and I need to take all my willpower not to look.   _Look at the utensils, look at the sink, look at the fridge, NO DON’T LOOK AT THE FRIDGE, look at the cabinets, look at the sink look at the sink!  NOT THE FRIDGE!_   He straightens up with some spring onions in one hand and two eggs in the other, “How do you feel like chicken noodle soup?  Sort of an Asian-inspired version.”  He bends down again quickly to retrieve some chicken breast fillets.

“It sounds lovely,” I reply.  I like all kinds of soup, actually.

“Great, come here.  Help me with this,” He unwraps the chicken and gets a cutting board from behind the fruit bowl, places it on the island and starts cutting one of the fillets.  “Okay, we’ll just it into bite-size pieces…like this.” He cuts the fillet into little cubes.  “Okay, now you show me.” He hands me the knife.

“Erm, okay…” I hesitate for a second and take the knife from his hand.  I try to imitate him as best as I can with Tom hovering behind me to see if I’m doing it correctly.

“Oh dear, you need to curve your fingers under to protect them.”  His arm reaches across my shoulder and he places his hand on top of mine, curving my hand until it sort of looks like a claw.  “Like this.”  Then he wraps my another hand, the one with the knife, in his and starts cutting a piece.  It’s almost like when you were a kid, your mom would hold your hand when you had a pencil in yours, and teach you how to write a certain letter.  Honestly, that’s more distracting than anything, and if I needed to hurt myself, that would be the time.  Luckily he releases his grip and steps back after only cutting two more pieces, because as he states again, “You need to try by yourself.”

When he’s satisfied with the few pieces I’ve cut, he goes and prepare other things.  He opens a can and gives me some mushrooms and also the spring onions to cut, while he stands in front of the stove to cook the soup.  The more I cut the better I am at it.  It takes no time for me to finish cutting all the things. 

“Ta-da!” I announce happily when I’ve finished all the tasks Tom has given me.

“Let’s see,” he puts the wooden spoon down on the side and comes to check my works, “Well done!” He hugs my shoulder, standing right next to me. 

“Thanks for showing me,” I smile at him.

“You’re welcome!  And now you see it’s not that difficult at all!” He does look like he’s genuinely proud.  “Okay now we’ll need to cook the chicken.  Could you please get the pan for me?  It’s in the cabinet down there on your left.”  He points at a cabinet door.

“Sure,” I double over to reach the cabinet door handle and – I accidentally bump into Tom’s crotch while doing so.  SHIT.  Apparently I can blame my huge butt and also I moved backwards a little bit to give the door some room to open, and I didn’t expect he was this close.  If it was just a soft bump I would pretend it never happened and continue with whatever I was doing, but I’ve just bumped into him so hard that I could feel his…his…YOU KNOW.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry!” I immediately turn around and jump back to put some more distance between us.  “I didn’t know…I didn’t mean to – “ I am gesturing a bit exaggeratedly that I knock over that open can which contained the mushrooms.  Unthinkingly, I try to catch it with bare hands, not remembering the edge is razor-sharp.  Yes, as you can probably imagine, it cut my fingers.  Fortunately it isn’t a deep or big cut because Tom quickly grabbed my arm and pulled it away when he saw me try to catch it. 

“No!  Don’t!” was all I heard before my fingers were cut and now they start bleeding.  When Tom sees the blood on my fingers, his first reaction is to suck on them.

He.  Sucks.  On.  My.  Fingers.

What the hell.

For one thing, I never do that because I think human’s mouth contains a lot of germs and it’s never my first reaction to suck on a bleeding wound.  For another, I can freakin’ feel his  _tongue_.  I flinch and pull my hand out from his grasp, “It’s alright, thanks!”

“Come on, you need to take care of that.”  He doesn’t waste any time.  He turns off the stove and walks out of the kitchen.  I follow him and I think he has disappeared into one of the rooms so I wait for him at the kitchen door, looking at my cuts closely.   _Sigh.  When will I ever stop being this clumsy?  I really think I should stay out from the kitchen for my entire life if I don’t ever want to hurt myself again._ Luckily the cuts look okay, it’s more or less like a deep paper cut. 

Tom returns with some disinfectant and some Band-Aids in his hands.  He has me sit down on the sofa and holds my hand up to drop some of those rubbing alcohol on my cuts, which instantly makes my eyes water and I need to cover my mouth hard to stifle a painful scream.  “There, there,” he tries to calm me down with his warm touch and his soothing voice and he then dresses my wounds very gently.

“I’m casting you out from the kitchen,” he looks me in the eyes and smirks.  “That’s enough bleeding for today.”

My brain is still too busy processing what’s just happened in the past 10 minutes…all I can do is to smile back.

“Next time, we have cereal.  There’s no way you can hurt yourself with that,” he pats my head and stands up.  “I’ll go finish the soup.  You can wait at the dining table.  Lunch will be served soon, okay?”

I nod.

Tom kisses me on the top of my head and walks back into the kitchen.  I can hear him turn the stove back on.  I can see the dining table from here but somehow I don’t feel like dragging myself there from the comfortable sofa.  And without a warning, I don’t know why…my nose suddenly feels sour and my eyes are getting all misty.  I take a look into the kitchen – seeing Tom is now having his back towards me, I quickly tiptoe into the bathroom.

 _Oh gosh, why am I crying?_   The tears just don’t stop flooding out.  I take a quick look of myself in the mirror and  _oh my god I need to stop right now or Tom will definitely notice I’ve been crying!_   I fan my face wildly to calm myself down and take deep breaths.  I heard the trick of looking upwards to stop the tears and I’m now desperately trying that.   _NO IT DOESN’T WORK!_   I put the toilet lid down as soundlessly as I can and sit on it, while trying to use the facial tissue to absorb the escaping tears at the corners of my eyes.

_Damn.  So what if Alice is right after all?  I mean, stop making excuses.  Tom has definitely been acting more than just being friendly.  You need to stop this, Julia.  STOP this.  Why don’t these stupid tears just stop!  Argh.  Great, now my nose is stuffed too.  How to blow it without being noisy?  Oh god oh god…does that mean I’m going to lose Tom?  Right after we both gain a new best friend?  Damn, stop crying already!  Ouch!  My cuts!  Hmm…where is the rubbish bin?  Wow, his bathroom is spotless.  Hmm nice towels.  My feet feel good on the fluffy bathmat!  Argh I still need to blow my nose._

Knock, knock.

“Lunch’s ready,” Tom is on the other side of the door.

I stand right up.   _How do I look now?_ I check myself in the mirror again and – I look like shit.  My eyes are red and puffy and my nose is dry.  I need to get out of here though.

“Just a minute,” I manage to answer.

“Okay,” Tom says, sounding quite happy actually.

I try splashing cold tap water on my face to try to make my face less sticky from the tears (it works magic by the way, considering how hard the water is…my face is all dried up now, ha).  But my eyes are still pink…if I keep looking down, would he notice?

Finally I open the door carefully, with my head down.  I don’t want Tom to see me in this state.  He’s still hurrying between the dining table and the kitchen, getting tableware and stuff.  He sees me when I walk out and he almost drops the glasses. 

“Oh darling, what’s wrong?” He takes a few big steps towards the table and puts the glasses down, before hurrying to me to give me a tight hug.  This gesture, reminding me of my fear, breaks my dam of tears again.  I stand there with my arms feeling limp on either side of my body, not bothering with wiping the tears away at all.  What’s the point?  He sees already.  “Shh…shh…” Tom gently rocks me in his arms in an attempt to calm me down. 

“Does your cut hurt badly?” He whispers.

“…No..” I try to make myself heard with my face squashed in his chest.

“So why are you crying, darling?”

“mm-dum-now.”  I don’t want to lift my face from his chest, because I don’t want him to see me.

“There’s gotta be a reason.  But we don’t need to talk about it now, okay?”  He gets a grip of my shoulders and pushes me away so that he can look me in the eyes, “Let’s eat first, and then you can tell me.  I’ll help you fix it, whatever it is.”

I nod weakly, wiping another tear away with the back of my hand.

He holds my hand and leads me to the table, and sits me down like I’m a fragile child.  Honestly I don’t know how I can eat especially now I feel this huge lump in my throat. 

Instead of the chair opposite to mine, Tom chooses to sit right next to me.  He squeezes my arm and gives me the warmest smile even though he’s frowning, “Go ahead.  Eat.”


	20. Vintage or Vera Wang

Even though Tom is really good at cooking and the noodles soup smells absolutely mouth-watering, I am having troubles to eat, mainly because I can’t see very well – both from the tears in my eyes and the fog on my glasses, and I am still feeling that lump in my throat.  I take a quick glance at Tom – he must be starving!  He is trying his best to eat the boiling soup as fast as he can with the chopsticks in his right hand (okay, I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m amazed at how good he is with chopsticks) while his left arm is casually stretched on the table towards me.   It almost feels like if I needed to hold his hand for comfort, I could do it anytime. 

Sensing that I’m still staring at my bowl, Tom tilts his head and gives me his puppy dog look again, “You don’t like the noodles?”

“I do!” I make some sort of throaty noise which makes it sound like “ahrrr…duu…!”

 

“Go on, eat up.”

“Okay…” I pout.

I hate to admit it but the whole thing feels so familiar and comfortable.  Jeff does the same thing too.  He loves cooking and always cooks the most delicious food, even when he’s only experimenting.  He enjoys cooking but doesn’t like to do the dishes, while I’m more comfortable with the washing-up, so we’re a good team whenever we eat at home.  I always have this habit to put my left hand on his right arm too since Jeff is left-handed.  He’d sit on my left and we can still eat even if we decide the hold our hand during the meal.  My mind is almost back to Jeff’s condo until the fog on my glasses clears up and I see Tom by my side with his face almost buried inside the bowl as he tries to drink up the soup.

He’s really like a boy sometimes.  And that thought brings a smile on my face.

When we finish lunch, I try to postpone “the talk” for as long as I can.  I help clear the table and I even offer to wash all the dishes, which is stopped by Tom, of course, who brings up the topic again, “So my little darling, why were you crying?”  He says as he leans against the kitchen counter.

“It’s – “ I roll my eyes at the ceiling and walk back into the dining room to wipe the table (old habits die hard), “it’s nothing, really.”  I shake my head.

Tom follows me out of the kitchen, takes the washcloth out of my grasp concernedly and sits down on the chair he was sitting on earlier for lunch, motioning me to sit down too.  He puts the washcloth aside, and leans towards me, “Please, I’ll help fix anything that’s bothering you.  You can tell me.  It breaks my heart to see you cry.”

My heart is pounding against my chest.  I’m nervous as hell but then I remember that’s why I’m here – to talk to him.  I still choose to believe that Alice is thinking too much and try to laugh her stupid suspicion off.  I hide my lowered face behind a hand and shake my head, “But it’s really nothing.  Your protective cousin seems to think that something’s going on between us, that erm, you like me a bit too much and ah, she asked me to talk to you about it because she doesn’t want anybody to get hurt because of my engagement and everything… but I mean, of course, she’s apparently being paranoid, isn’t she?  We can just go up to her and say that right in her face, that she really should relax and accept the fact that we’re good friends!”  I finish with a shrug and the “god I can’t believe it” look on my face.

Tom seems to have frozen and the only movement from him is that he’s just licked his lips lightly.  His eyes never leave mine.

Finally he lets out a sigh, “Julia, darling.”  _Damn I don’t like this tone.  No.  No.  NO.  NONONO._   I hold my breath. 

“Alice is right.”

I stifle a gasp with both of my hands.

“I’m not going to deny it, that I’m indeed attracted to you.  I know we haven’t even known each other for long, but I can’t ignore the explosion of joy inside my heart every time when I’m next to you.”

“Tom, no, please.”  I plead.  I can feel the tears again.  “Don’t.”   _I don’t want to lose you._

“I know, I know it’s not right,” he gazes at my engagement ring.  “I tried to stop myself, I really did, but you can never ask your heart not to love.”  He bites and sucks his lower lip before his eyes find mine again, “You can’t legislate for the decisions that your heart makes.  Better to be frowned upon and stay alive, than to be respectable and walking like the living dead.  Live without regrets.”

I can’t even utter a word.  My tears have choked me.

Tom kneels on the floor next to my chair.  Hesitantly, he puts his hand on my thigh.  “Please give me a chance.  I understand this may be too much to ask, but please let me show you that my feelings are genuine…”

My heart aches.  I can’t look at him.  My brain isn’t even functioning.  I usually react before I can make sense of my actions – and the only thing I know is that my tears just won’t stop streaming down my cheeks.  I…I can’t face him.  I stand up abruptly and run out of his apartment.

“Julia!” I hear Tom call out behind me but I don’t want to give him the chance to stop me.  I run all the way down to the lobby, past George, and push open the double glass doors to stumble into the street outside.

It’s already past lunchtime on a Monday afternoon so the street is quite deserted.  I’m glad of that because I must look like such a mess in this state.  The thing is, I don’t know where I should go.  The cool air has quickly calmed me down and woken me up.  It reminds me that I’ve left everything behind in Tom’s place – my sweater, my wallet, phone and handbag, everything.  I don’t dare to walk far away from the building’s entrance because I know I may need to go back there to retrieve my stuff or Tom may bring them down to me at any second.

The tears haven’t stopped yet.

 _What’s that feeling in my heart?  It feels like as if there were a rock pushing my heart down, and I had troubles breathing.  I feel scared, insecure, and confused.  Usually the first thing I would do when I’m feeling like this is that I’d think of Jeff, and his face would instantly make everything better.  Yes, his face is in my head right now.  But so is Tom’s.  A part of me longs to go back to Tom right now and drain all my tears on his chest, in his arms.  But my heart feels tight when that thought comes to my head – it’s trying to scream “no”.  You’re_ not _falling for him, are you, Julia?  You can’t do this to Jeff!  And how well do you know Tom, really?  You can’t fall for him.  You CAN’T._

My tear glands finally decide to take a break and since I’m starting to get goose bumps from the chilly wind, I think I should go back inside the building.  At least I should go get my stuff.   _Be strong, Julia._

I try to wave at George and knock on the door.  He looks up but he chooses not to take any notice of me.  With a sigh, I try the intercom again but now I’m feeling quite cold in my tissue-thin burnout T-shirt.  My eyes are puffy from all the crying and my fingers are getting stiff from the coldness.  I accidentally press the wrong button and buzz another apartment instead.  Before I can cancel it, an old lady answers, “Hello?”

“I’m sorry I think I’ve got the wrong flat,” I speak into the machine.

“Pardon?” The old lady says again.

“I’m sorry I must have pressed the wrong button,” I repeat.

“Is it Margaret?” She raises her voice, obviously not hearing me at all.

“No ma’am I’m not Margaret,” I’m becoming a bit frustrated.  “I’m sorry I just – “

George pushes open the door and yells at the intercom, “Mrs. Baker, wrong button!  Sorry!  Have a lovely day!”  Then he presses “Cancel”.

“What do you want?” He demands, straight-faced.

“I need to go back to get my things.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

I can’t believe it.  “What?”

“Do you have an appointment?” He says again, in exactly the same tone and speed.

“You just saw me walk out from here!”

“You left.  You see, I’m allowed to let people leave the building but it’s company policy to require me to check everyone who wants to enter the building as a visitor.”

This is more than I can take.  I’m exhausted, I just want to close my eyes and wish that everything would go away.  I want to stop crying.  I want to get my stuff from Tom.  Not here arguing with George.

“It’s okay, George.” Tom appears in the lobby suddenly.  “She’s with me.”

“Of course, Mr. Hiddleston.”  He smiles at him.  “My apologies.”

I try my best to swallow every single bad word I want to spit at George.  Who does he think I am?   _What_  does he think I am?  I’m a human being!  Despite being a poor one.  I start walking to Tom triumphantly but then I remember why I’m having these wet tear stains right at the front of my shirt.

Tom wraps my sweater around my shoulders and speaks softly so that I’ll be the only one who can hear him, “I thought I’d give you some time by yourself, but then I saw this on my sofa and I don’t want you to catch a cold or anything…I’m relieved to find you here.”

I look up at him without a smile, “Actually, I’ve forgotten all of my stuff at your place.  I don’t have a penny on me right now.”

“Oh sweetheart – “ Tom’s shoulders drop.

“Can you please get my things for me?  I can wait for you here.” I try to look at Tom as coldly as possible.

Sadness wipes across his face.  “Julia…”  He wants to say something but he stops himself and takes a deep breath instead.  “Would you just come with me, please?”

_I don’t know.  I’m not sure._

“Please?”  He begs.

I hate my soft-heartedness and yet I give in, “Okay.”

The way back to his apartment is as awkward as it can possibly be – neither of us says anything nor tries to make any eye contact.

When we’re back in his place, I find comfort by sticking to “my spot” on the sofa, trying to feel as less exposed as possible with the armrest hiding half of my body.  Tom doesn’t sit next to me but instead he simply sits on the floor with his leg crossed in front of me.  We stay like this for a few moments before he whispers, “I’m sorry…”

I reluctantly raise my head to study his face, but I’m not saying anything.

“It’s selfish of me to put this on you.  What was I thinking?  Perhaps you don’t like me back the same way I do to you.  I’m so stupid…”  He’s looking towards his right, frowning.

It breaks my heart to see him looking this miserable.  I can’t help but to place my palm on the side of his head, gently over his ear, “Tom.  I…I do like you.  But I really can’t do this to Jeff…it’s not fair to him.  Maybe if I had met you before…” My voice drifts away, I can’t believe the words that have come out from my mouth.

Tom’s eyes shoot back at me and travel between my eyes, searching for something.  His mouth is slightly open, words are already on the tip of his tongue.  He finally finds his words, “So you  _do_  like me back.”

“I…it doesn’t matter.  I’m getting married in less than 2 weeks,” I raise my hand to show him the ring.  “I  _love_  him.  I do.”  I don’t know who I’m trying so hard to convince, Tom or myself.

“But you haven’t got married yet.  It’s still a fair game.  Can I not at least have the chance to fight for it?”  His hands are on my knees.

“Tom,” I wrinkle my nose, trying to stop another tear from dropping.  “It’s not a game.  People get hurt.  It’s better to be left this way, the way it was supposed to be.”

“Please give me a chance, Julia.  I can offer everything Jeff can, if not more.  Please don’t ever doubt my feelings for you.  If Jeff really loves you, he would understand, wouldn’t he?  If someone can give you happiness and security, he would understand.”

“No, Tom.  No.  How can you say that?  It doesn’t work that way.”

He lifts his hands from my knees and cross his arms in front of his chest which makes it look like he’s trying to protect himself, “I’m sorry.  I – I promise I won’t force you or make you feel uncomfortable.  I honestly just want you to be happy.  We can stay friends for as long as you want but please do know that I’m here for you.”

I narrow my eyes at him.  Why does he do that?  Imagine you have already found your dream wedding gown, a vintage allover lace gown that you love so much.  And it fits you so perfectly.  Everyone gasps when they see you in that dress, agreeing it’s “the One”.  And then suddenly someone gives you a Vera Wang fantasy gown, one that you may have been eyeing for but it’s completely out of your budget.  Usually, normal people can make decisions based on their limitations or restrictions, or different factors like the size, the availability, or the price of the dress.  And of course you’ve said no to Vera Wang since the very beginning and already forgotten about it.  But now, someone brings that dress to you and says that you can have it unconditionally.  It fits, it’s available right now and you can even have it for free.  You look at the vintage lace gown that you’re so fond of, that you’ve grown quite attached to; and then you can also look at the fancy Vera Wang that you thought you could never have.

But you can only wear one dress when you walk down the aisle.


	21. Lonely Loki

I shake my head.  Both because of what Tom’s suggested and my denial of the whole situation.

Why am I always the one to make the decision?  I’m not only responsible for my own happiness but also the others’.  So what Tom’s doing is basically asking me to decide whether to break his heart or Jeff’s.  Why?  Why put that on me?  Either way it’s going to break mine anyway…Is there another way out?  Can someone please tell me what to do?

“Just…please don’t leave like this, I’m begging you.” Tom gazes into my soul.

I can feel all my muscles tense up, and it’s not in a pleasant way, “Why would I stay, Tom?  Why?”

 

“Because I asked nicely?”  He shrugs and makes a cute, hopeful face, in spite of the obvious sadness in his eyes.

I bite my lip really hard and try to tear my eyes away from Tom’s to look elsewhere.  I need to think straight.  “Tom…this is not appropriate.  I don’t think I should be here anymore.”

“Hey, at least give me a chance to prove that I can be a friend.  I promised not to make you feel pressured and we can stay friends for as long as you want unless you decide otherwise.  I can do that.  Please let me show you I  _can_  do that.”  He must be getting a little desperate because he’s now just looking for whatever reasons he can come up with in his head, “Besides, I don’t want you to go out looking like that.  My neighbors may think that I’ve done something horrible to you!”

“I’ve already run out crying, like, just a few minutes ago.”  I take the sheet of Kleenex offered by Tom and blow my nose.

“And you were lucky that nobody saw you but George!  He won’t say anything because he’s definitely a cyborg, I’m sure of it.” Tom emphasizes in mock seriousness.

That remark inevitably makes me giggle.   _Damn you, Tom._   I can’t believe how easy it is for me to be affected by his words.  He always sounds so sensible and convincing!  Is he right?  Should I stay just so that we can prove that we can act like friends?

Before I think of anything to say, Tom adds, “Okay…just to show you how much I’d love you to stay, I’m going to let you in on a huge secret.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Can I trust you?” He’s now challenging me.

“Why, of course.”

“Wait here.”  He quickly scrambles up from the floor and runs into one of the rooms.

I sit there like an obedient schoolchild.  I don’t know why I’m still here because obviously I believe the most suitable thing to do is to leave, to stay away from Tom, to be more specific.  And yet I’m sitting here, waiting for his return.

After a minute or so, he reappears from the room melodramatically, like a king making his entrance into the grand ballroom.  He is holding a pile of neatly clipped but slightly creased paper.  He walks towards me but is careful not to let me see what’s written on the cover of the pile.  “Remember, once you’re in, there’s no way out.  You need to swear that you are not going to tell anyone, not even your very best friend.”

“O..kay.”  I’m not sure if I really want to know now since it’s so secretive but the curiosity is killing me, especially with that excitement twinkling in his eyes.

Tom turns the pile of paper around so that the cover is facing me.  
 

**T H O R  :  T H E   D A R K   W O R L D**

**  
 **

**story by  
Don Payne**

**Thor created by  
Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Jack Kirby**

****  
  


Wait.  NOOOOOO.  What?!  Is it?  It is! 

I need to pick my jaw up from the floor before I blink at Tom, “This – but this – you show me?”  I can’t even form a complete sentence now.

Tom smiles proudly, “Yes.  I’m just trying to do everything I can so that you’d stay.  They’re probably going to kill me if they know I’m letting non-related personnel read this, but I do trust you with this so I’m not worried.”  He sits down on the rug again next to the couch and hands me the script, “Would you care to be my practice partner?” He lies on his back now, resting his head on his hands.

I pull my feet up onto the sofa and rest my back against the armrest, flipping through the script with hungry eyes.  I’m only on the 3rd page when Tom clears his throat, “So, would you?”

“Erm…I, guess?”  I stammer, not entirely sure what exactly I’m doing here.

I peek over my shoulder at him, who has already made himself comfortable on the floor.  “Which page?” I ask.

“Hmm…it’s around page 75 I think, where my brother and I are engaged in a negotiation.”  He gestures in the air.

I turn to page 75, and then look before and after that page, “Where do you want us to start?”

“At the beginning of that scene.”

“And I got to be Thor?”

“Yes, Thor.”  He’s now having his eyes closed and a big grin is plastered on his face.

“Alright, let me take a minute to see what this is about…”

“Take all the time you need, darling.”

Even though I know very well that he calls everyone “darling”, hearing him say that to me still brings a prick to my heart.   _Right.  Friends.  I can do it.  I’ll let him see that I’m loyal to Jeff.  I’m not those kinds of girls who immediately jump at the chance when they see a “better” option, and forget everything and everyone who’s been there for them since the very beginning.  No, I’m not that kind of girl.  I do love Jeff and Tom should respect that.  Yes…Tom’s attractive and all…but no, I can’t do that to Jeff._

I take a deep breath and clear my throat, “Are you ready?”

He stands up, carefully not to bump into the coffee table.  He completely towers me now with him standing while I’m still on the sofa.  “Come on, it’s better to do it standing up so that you can move around and you can breathe better.”

I stand up, holding the script in front of my chest.  I try to stay close to him by his side so that he can also look at the script.

“Oh, I remember all the lines,” he taps on his temple and winks at me when he realizes what I am trying to do.  “I need to.  I’m a professional.”

“Practicing with a complete amateur though,” I smirk.

And then here we go, practicing the lines (sorry but did you honestly think I’m going to let you read any of those lines?  Tom trusts me with that and I’m not letting you read anything!  Nothing!), a little bit clumsily at first because of my unconvincing Thor impression.  I try my deep Australian-accented voice which fails miserably, and makes Tom laugh so hard that he has tears in his eyes, repeating “What was  _that_?  What was THAT?”

Once we get past the goof-around phase, we become more serious and get down to business. 

After playing Loki for more than once before, Tom is able to get into the character fairly easily.  He’s good.  I mean,  _good_.  I’m sure I’m doing rather poorly because I’m not used to it at all, but he can still respond to my lines as if I were really Thor.  This person in front of me, god, I don’t know him.  This is Loki, the man with a hole inside his heart.  This is not Tom, the sweet and cheerful Tom who just told me he’s fallen for me.  There is a scene when he tries to show Thor that Thor needs his help after all (oops I’m saying too much!) and Tom really narrows his eyes at me, challenging me, approaching me.  With each step he takes, it sends chills up my spine.  I can’t help but stumble backwards because he is indeed terrifying…he basically pins me down against the wall with his voice alone.

Fortunately that scene ends with him because I completely forget to say anything.  It takes maybe around half a minute for Tom to “come back” but when he does, he smiles at me warmly and asks, like an excited child, “So, how was it?  I think I may have overdone that part though,” he comes to me and looks for a certain line in the script.  “Here, I think I can sound more disappointed or betrayed than that being furious.”  He looks at me, “What do you think?”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know.”  I puff air out from my mouth.  “You’re the professional here.  But wow, you were… _scary_.”

“Sorry if I’ve frightened you,” he casually combs his hair behind his ears.  “Loki is quite a complex character with a lot going on in his head…hey let’s try this scene!”  He turns the script to a later part.

I take some other minutes to go through it before our practice.  This is a much more emotional moment because … _damn, I’m not allowed to tell you!_ Anyway, this time we’re sitting down instead.

it is indeed a sad scene but since I’m only reading it for the first time and also I’m feeling nervous to practice lines with a professional actor, I’m not that much into the character and only saying the lines with some sort of appropriate emotions or tones (I can only hope I’m interpreting them fine).  On the other hand, Tom is in another dimension again.  If there’s such a thing as a mini personal snow cloud, it would snow on him and him alone in the whole living room.

Loki may be the villain but the more time you spend with him, the better you can understand that he’s just confused.  He’s really not that bad.  It’s so easy to feel for him too because he’s so…lonely.  Somehow he just makes people want to give him a huge hug and tell him everything’s okay.

“Thor, I…” It’s Tom’s line again but he’s stopped.  “I…”

I stop staring at the script and see what he’s doing.  His voice doesn’t sound right.

I find him burying his face in his big hands, his shoulders trembling.

Remembering how terrified I was of Loki just a short time ago, I approach him cautiously, hesitating whether or not to put my hand on his shoulder.  “Are you okay, Tom?”

“Uh-huh,” he mutters.

Anyway I end up placing my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, which he quickly takes and turns around to hold me in his arms.  I’m completely lost and don’t know how to react.  His soft sniffles can be heard although they are muffled with my hair.

“Tom?”  I ask again.  I can tell that he’s trying to calm himself down.  I guess he was too engulfed in the negative emotions of Loki’s that it makes him feel that way.  I say again, as soothingly as I am able to, “Tom, it’s okay.  You’re Tom.  Loki’s not here.”

He isn’t letting go of me yet, but he repeats, “Loki’s not here.”

“Loki’s not here,” I emphasize.

“It’s…it was easier the first time,” his grip loosens and he sits back with his head hanging down, not showing me his face.

I don’t say anything.   I think it’s better to wait for him to continue.

“I am thankful for what I have…I just…sometimes I understand how Loki feels,” he wipes his nose with the back of his hand.  “It feels like, you’re on your own.”

“You are not alone, Tom.  We’re here for you.”  It’s not every day that you get to see a confident man cry in front of you like that, so this is really catching me off guard.  I don’t know what to do except to try to get him back to his normal state.

He continues, “This is such a lonely business…especially when suddenly, everybody knows you.  Everybody wants a piece of you…at the beginning I tried to stay positive, tried to remind myself that without them, I wouldn’t be where I am right now.  But then…the more famous you become, the lonelier it feels…I…I don’t even know who I can trust anymore.  I know that insecurity and paranoia growing inside of me no matter how hard I try to suppress it.  And all these people…only come to me when they want something from me.  I don’t know…I know they may be just bad apples, but oh god, I don’t know…this is getting exhausting.”  He tries hard not to let his voice crack.

“Tom, it’s okay.  Everything’s fine.  You’re doing well,” I lean towards him a bit.  “Do you need to take a nap or something?  Just to…have a rest?”

“No,” he finally raises his eyes to look at me, and it really breaks my heart when I see that his eyes are so full of tears.  His tightens his lips, “Everything I need is here.  Someone who’s there for me not because of my name or my fame, but who I really am.”  He pauses.  “You are different, Julia.  You’re not them.”

I need to stop him.  “Tom.”  I place my hand over his, “You’re not playing fair are you?  You know you’re not supposed to say things like that to me with those eyes filled with tears.  And besides, I know I’m one hell of a friend.”  I need to remind him that we’re friends and this is where the line is drawn.  “And now I think you should go take a nap.”

It takes a few moments for Tom to process my words but slowly he nods and agrees.  Without a word, he shuffles his feet into his bedroom, leaving me in the living room.  

I have the perfect chance to leave.  But now with Tom like this, I can’t.  I need to stay behind to make sure he’s alright…I have this sudden urge to want to take care of him.  I’ve always thought that with this kind of fame and recognition, he must have gained new confidence…never have I expected he would feel that hollow and insecure inside.


	22. Sleepyhead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally received my first kudos yay!! :D thanks for reading, everyone <3

No noises or movements can be detected from inside his room but I don’t dare to go and look because that feels a bit too intrusive.  I stay inside the living room as silently as possible, for I assume that Tom’s sleeping in there.

I resume my previous position on the sofa and keep reading the script.  I can’t believe Tom trusts me with this.  He can really get into troubles if this gets leaked or lost.  Sigh, and he has such a firm belief that I’m different from the others…honestly, I did come here on such short notice because I thought I would see one of my favorite actors…well yeah, also because Alice insisted that I came without telling me why.  But I  _kind of_  guessed.  The thing is, I’m not that different.  He shouldn’t think so highly of me.  Tom, you really should be less trusting of the others.

I start reading the script again from the beginning with my head resting on the armrest now, and my legs are sprawled across the couch.  I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been crying, but my eyes are feeling dry and my eyelids are heavy…soon I fall asleep with the script still in my hands.

You know how sometimes when you dream, you  _know_  that you’re dreaming?  And that time inside a dream feels absolutely distorted, like an actual 2 hours can feel like 10 minutes or an actual 2 minutes can feel like 3 hours? 

I hate this dream I’m having.  I’m in a hallway, it’s not that long but there are doors on either side.  There seems to be a dozen of doors but I can never finish opening them.  I know this is a dream, but I know I need to play by its rule so I keep turning all the doorknobs and pull.  There is music, and I need to find where the music comes from.  I keep opening doors after doors, but there is only a wall of bricks behind all of them.  I run and run, hurrying along the hallway, because time is running out.  But I never reach the end of the corridor no matter how far I run.  The music keeps playing but I’m feeling quite anxious because I know it’ll stop anytime.  I feel desperate.  I yank open yet another door and it’s still only bricks.  But there’s a rainbow graffiti sprayed on it.  Hm.  The music is getting louder by the moment, urging me to find the exit.  I’m still running around the hallway when I finally take back control of my mind.

My eyes shoot open and I wake up, panting heavily.  I can hear my heart pounding in my head.

Stupid dream.  If someone ever cared to write to analyze all these dreams I’ve had, it’d be Bible-thick.  Or, hmm, it can be just one sentence: “They all mean nothing.”

I pull myself up from the couch and listen.  I still remember this is Tom’s place and the moment when I do, the room suddenly closes in on me with the reminder of his presence.  I listen and there’s only silence.  The sky is starting to get dark outside, casting this eerie grey light all over the place.  I tiptoe around the living room to find the light switches, while still having this vague fear that behind the closed doors there is only a wall of bricks.  I manage to turn two table lamps on, which emit soft, warm light and make the living room seem almost…romantic.

This doesn’t feel right.  I should leave.  I tiptoe again towards Tom’s room to see if he’s doing alright.  Finding his door is left ajar, I peek inside to see that he’s indeed sleeping – in a fetal position hugging a pillow tightly.  His hair is all over the place from his sleep and he looks…so peaceful.  He’s like a baby inside, even though he tries not to show that side to the others.  Am I really going to leave, just like that?  How would he feel when he wakes up and walks into the empty apartment?  WHY AM I THIS SOFT-HEARTED?  Argh.  I go back to the living room with a sigh.  I guess I can still let him sleep some more but not for too long, or else he’ll have troubles falling asleep tonight.  I need to stay awake though so that I can wake him up later if he’s still sleeping.  Okay, back to the script.

The script keeps me entertained for quite a while until my stomach growls.  I try to silence it by wrapping my arms around but that simply makes it growl again.  I look up and notice it’s nearly all dark outside now and it’s, I check my watch, 7:40pm.

God, I’m starving!  I can still hear the soft snores from the bedroom and so I decide to look around the kitchen by myself first.  The sight of the unwashed dishes in the sink is just…I can’t ignore it!  I wash them as quietly as I can, which makes it quite slow too.  Luckily there are only a pot, two bowls and some other little things.  When I’m done I try to put the things back to their storage spaces as best as I can but I don’t really know where those chopsticks come from.  Shrug.  I’ll leave them right here.  Hmm…okay.  Obviously I don’t want to burn his place down so I’ll just try to make something without having to turn the stove on. 

Then I see a box of cereal.

I go to the fridge and see the milk.

Ta-da!  Cereal dinner!  But I need to check with Tom first to see if it’s okay to eat his food.

That guy can sleep.  It’s been 4 hours and he’s not even changed position.  How tired is he, really?  I push open his bedroom door and walk inside carefully.  “Tom?” I call out softly, still standing near to the door, not dare to walk all the way in.

He doesn’t even stir.

“Tom?  You should get up,” I call out a little more loudly.  But he’s still deep asleep.

“Hm,” I make a face, before I decide to go and give him a light shoulder shake.  He has a double bed in his room but I guess it’s tailor-made because it’s longer than usual, probably to accommodate his height.  He’s sleeping in the middle of the bed though, so I need to sit on the edge of it and twist my waist in order to reach him.

“Hey, Tom,” I grab his shoulder and shake lightly.  “Wake up!”

All he does is hug the pillow even more tightly and moans, “Agh…”

I grab the pillow and snatch it from his arms, “GET UP!”

His eyes are still tightly shut but I think he’s awake.  He frowns and wraps his arms around himself instead, but that only lasts for a split second before he suddenly decides to substitute the pillow with my arm that I’m using to support myself.  There’s nothing I can do except falling over towards him with the sudden pull.  My face is now only inches away from his.  I instantly hold my breath.

“Tom?”  I say with a hint of annoyance, even though I’m not exactly feeling that inside.  “This is not cool.”

He finally opens his eyes and pulls a semi-duck face, “Why?”

I don’t want to give him a big speech, instead I reply, “Because I’m hungry.  Can I eat the cereal I found in your kitchen?”

“Oh god,” he lets my arm go (phew!) and turns his head to the alarm clock on the nightstand, which reads 20:03.  “I need to get ready.”  He gets up and gets off the bed, leaving me completely clueless.

“Do you need to go out?”  I ask as he checks himself in the mirror.

“No, I don’t.”  He finger-combs his curls quickly.  “It’s just that I’ve invited some friends over and they should be here in less than an hour.”

“Oh,” I stand up.  “I’ll be going then.”

“Nonono,” he makes a ‘please stay seated’ gesture hastily.  “Please stay!  It’ll be fun!”

“But –“ I’m not sure about it.  I won’t know anybody.

“Do you know who Zachary Levi is?”  He straightens up his shirt collar.  “He’s also coming over.”

“Zachary…who?”

“Have you heard of the drama television series called  _Chuck_?”  He takes a last look in the mirror and walks out of the room.  I follow.

“Chuck?  Of course!  Ah!  Zachary Levi, Chuck!  Chuck’s coming?” I’m getting excited, because  _Chuck_  is more or less a show that Jeff and I watch together.  We have an unspoken pact that we don’t watch an episode without the presence of the other.

“Yes, he’s in town for the shooting of Thor 2.  And there’s also another friend of mine coming, his wife and kids are visiting his in-laws and he’s bored being left behind at home.”  Tom lets out a soft giggle and shakes his head.

“But it’ll be kinda awkward, I don’t know anyone.”

“Then get to know them,” Tom replies a-matter-of-factly as he rearranges the cushions in the living room.  “Hey, didn’t you say you’re hungry?”

“Yes I am, aren’t you?” I’m standing between the kitchen and living room, watching Tom.

Tom checks the time quickly, “Hmm yeah you’re right, I think cereal would do.  We don’t have much time left before they come.”  It only takes him a few big steps to walk into the kitchen and start to look around.

“Erm, by the way, I didn’t know where to put the chopsticks so I left them there,” I point out.

He stops whatever he’s doing and looks at the sink, “Julia.”  He turns his head to look at me, “You didn’t wash the dishes, did you?  You’re the guest!  What kind of horrible host am I to let you do the washing-up?”  He continues to put the quick cereal meal together.

I shrug and admit, “Well, I guess I’m a bit O.C. about it.  I can’t stand dirty dishes left in the sink.  One time Jeff even needed to beg me to leave the dishes until the next day!  But then of course everything needs a harder scrub and it starts to smell funny the next day, so I make it clear that I won’t ever let him convince me to do that, ever again.”

He gets the milk from the fridge ( _don’t look don’t look don’t look_ ) and pours it into the two big bowls already filled with cereal, “It must be handy to have you around.  Jeff’s a lucky man.”

I smile as Tom carefully hands me a big bowl of cereal and a spoon, “I think I’m a lucky to have him too.”

Tom doesn’t reply to that, rests his hip against the kitchen counter and starts eating.  I follow suit.  It’s strangely serene here in the kitchen, eating cereal with Tom side by side.  It’s so quiet that I don’t even dare to make any slurping noises, which I’ve never been aware of before whenever I had cereal.

It doesn’t take long to finish the bowl of cereal.  My stomach doesn’t feel satisfied but at least I’m not starving.  We put the bowls into the sink and of course Tom “warns” me not to wash them this time.  “So do you often have friends over at this hour?”  I ask him as I walk to the couch, not knowing what else to do.

“Not at all,” Tom walks around to have a final check of his apartment to see if everything’s in order.  “But tonight’s the US Open final!”

I have no idea.  I’ve never been into sports and I skip the sports pages of the newspaper as quickly as I skip the financial sections.

“It’s going to start at around 9.  It’s quite a historic moment because Andy Murray is going to have the chance to become Britain’s first male Grand Slam winner since 1936, when Fred Perry won.  So that’s been quite a while!”  Tom says animatedly.  Is that guy a walking encyclopedia?

Tom has just sat down next to me for 2 seconds when the intercom buzzes.  He walks to the door to prepare.  I keep struggling whether I should stand (which makes me feel like a co-host and that’s weird) or sit (which may make me appear to be impolite), and then I decide to stand awkwardly next to the couch.  Tom opens the door to wait for the arrival of his friends.

Soon I hear excited “Heeeeyyyy!” echoing outside of the door and Tom laughs when he greets his friends.  I try to appear beside Tom as quietly as I can, not really knowing my position in the group.  After Tom hugs everyone, he introduces me to them, “This is Julia, my cousin used to work with her.  She’s here on holiday.”  Chuck, oh wait,  _Zachary_  and the other guy (who’s called Joseph) shakes hands with me politely.

We all walk into the living room and Tom turns the TV on.  Zachary has brought 2 six-packs of beer and Joseph has brought a cake.

“My wife never lets me eat anything sweet now,” he holds the box up.  “I’m goin’ to take advantage of the fact that she’s not here right now.  Hahahaa!”

It seems like the match is going to start in about 10 minutes.  All the guys keep scrambling around to cut the cake and get the plates and stuff, while I try to blend in like a shy ninja.

Soon everyone is settled in front of the TV to watch the match.  I’m seated between Tom and Zach on the 3-seater while Joseph, being on the heavier side, prefers to have his own seat.  I don’t have much time to chat with Zach before the match starts, even though I’d love to tell him how much I love the show Chuck.

We all eat cake and drink beer.  I’m not very good with alcohol in a way that my cheeks flush really quickly even though I may still be sober.  After an hour or two, since I don’t know much about sports or tennis, it’s starting to get a bit boring, and it’s not comfortable sitting between two hot guys.   _I know, I know, a lot of girls would kill to be in my place but please, when you really need to sit between them two and try not to slide into either of them, and also when they’re talking to each other with your head in between, that’s not as fun as you may imagine._

I really don’t know how long the match is going to last because it seems that it’s a REALLY heated match.

“Hey Tom,” I tap on his shoulder.  “Can I use your computer?”

It takes him a second to realize I’m talking to him, “Uh, yes, of course!  Just a moment.”  We wait until a moment when Djokovic can’t handle one of Murray’s return, which results in cheers from the guys. 

“Okay, follow me,” he pats on my thigh and stands up, leading me to the computer, which is in his bedroom.  He lets me sit down and he bends to type in the password in front of me, “Right, you’re all set.  Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”  He smiles at me before he walks out of the bedroom.

I haven’t talked to Jeff for a day now and he’s probably wondering how I am doing, so I think I should at least send him a message to say hello.

I log on to the internet.

P.S. Tom + duck face? —> http://imgur.com/HUWWD

 


	23. A Night In with the Guys

I swivel left and right in the office chair when I’m waiting for the page to load.  I take the chance to take a good look in his bedroom.  So there’s his bed that I saw earlier and his closet on one side, and I’m on the other side with the bookcase and the computer desk.  His room isn’t immaculate but it is tidy and presentable enough.  I like the neutral tone of the room, which echoes the general tone of the entire apartment.  It’s comforting and inviting.  Oh?  That looks familiar…my eyes stop at the sight of this houndstooth scarf that’s hung on one of the hooks behind the door.   _Gasp!_   That’s the Loki’s scarf!

My eyes instinctively sweep through the room for any other Loki objects, and then I saw this little Loki plush doll tucked away on top of some books in his bookshelf.  I guess he really loves this role he plays.  A loud cheer (which is hushed quickly because of the time) from the living room snaps me back to reality and reminds me why I’m in Tom’s room.  I turn my attention back to the screen and …Tom, you are supposed to click LOG OUT when you’re done even when you’re at home.  Be more careful, Tom.  I’m really starting to worry about you.  I quickly find the logout button and click it because it feels really wrong even if I only see something by accident.  I log in to my account instead and before I know it, Jeff already requests a video call session.  I hope he’s not too worried about me or anything.

“Hi sweetie!!!” Jeff waves at the webcam excitedly.  I’m impressed with both the quality and the speed on here, compared to my little netbook.

“Hi!” I wave back.

“Hey I can see you so much better today!  It’s not as blurry,” It doesn’t take long for Jeff to notice that I’m not in my hotel room.  “Where are you now?”

“Ah –“ I point at the space behind me.

It’s the end of the first set in the tennis match out there in the living room and Tom decides to walk in at this very second, “Is everything okay?  All good?”  He pokes his head into the room.

I turn around and smile at him politely, “Yes, thank you.”

And then Tom realizes I’m actually webcamming with Jeff and he gasps, mouths “sorry” before returning to the living room hurriedly.  He’s really crazily polite.  I’m in his room using his computer, and yet he says sorry to  _me_.  I roll my eyes at that even though Tom’s no longer in the room now.  I look at the computer screen again.

And there he is.  Jeff’s expression is…unreadable.  His excited grin seems to have frozen on his face, but his eyes are blank.  He blinks a few times and the smile on his face falters.

“Where are you?”  He asks again, but for this time, I know that he knows.

I want to stutter but I manage to swallow it, and smile at the webcam as naturally as I can, “At Tom’s place, we’re watching the US Open.”

“At this hour?”

“Well it’s live and they  _are_  playing at this hour in New York?” I shrug.

“You never watch tennis!  You never watch any kinds of sport!”  Jeff points out.  And instantly I feel a bit guilty because he is right.  I really don’t care much about sport and I’m only here because of Tom.

“Well…that’s why I’m here chatting with you instead.”  I hope I’ve come up with a good-enough reason.

“Is Alice there?”

_Damn, Jeff.  Is this an interrogation?_

“No, why?”  I look at him innocently on the screen, but I really don’t like the way he’s talking to me right now.  Also, it often feels a bit weird talking on the webcam because none of us really looks at each other in the eyes.

“Are you saying that you’re there alone at Tom’s place this late at night?  What time is it there anyway, going to be 11 isn’t it?  How are you supposed to make it back to your hotel when the match finishes?”

Jeff’s raising his voice and I’m trying desperately to lower the volume coming from the speakers, “Jeff, calm down.  Please don’t raise your voice.”  I say as I try to swing the door close with a push from my fingers, but carefully not too hard because I don’t want to completely close the door.  It’s not my own room after all.

“Calm down?  How can I calm down when my own fiancée is alone with fucking Loki at midnight in his place?”

“I’m not alone with him, there are other people.”  I protest.

“Yes?”

“Erm, Chuck?  Chuck’s also here, and another guy Tom knows.”

“Oh great, so you’re not there with one man but three.  You don’t even know these people!  Wait, Chuck?”  Jeff frowns.  “Zachary Levi Chuck?”

I nod, “Yes, THAT Chuck.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, impressed, but then shakes it off and continues, “Still, famous people aren’t necessarily nice people.  Don’t you think you should be back in your hotel by now?”

“Jeff, sweetheart, they’re really just here watching the tennis tournament.  Stop being so paranoid!”  Another cheer from the living room brings a wave of relief to me.  “Did you hear that?”  I open the door wider.  And here comes another cheer.  I can bet safely that Murray’s on fire on the tennis court right now.

“Okay,” Jeff’s voice is softened but I don’t think he’s backing down yet.  “So they’re watching the match.  But what are  _you_  doing there?  It’s getting late.  Please make sure you go back to the hotel safely, baby.”

“Don’t worry about that.  I’ll be going soon anyway, I don’t want to miss the last train.  I think it’s in another hour?  I’m not sure.”

“Are you going now?”

“No no no, I still have some time,” I smile weakly at Jeff.

“Okay.”

We sit there in silence for a few seconds before Jeff talks again, “Please don’t think that I’m being overprotective or anything.  You know I’d do anything for you and all I care is your safety and happiness.”

“Yes, I know, my dear.” I tilt my head, taking in the look of his face shown on the screen.

“It’s just that I hate myself for not being to be there with you while you’re there by yourself in a foreign country.  I am thinking about you all the time and keep wondering if you’re fine.”

“It’s okay, I understand.  But there’s no reason to worry.  I’m well taken care of here.  People are all being very nice to me – “

“I bet Tom takes care of y – “

“Yes he does, but so do Alice and her family.  Besides, baby, you know that I’ve already been here before in London, and I’ve traveled for so many times before I even know you.  I know how to take care of myself, okay?”

Jeff nods, “But you know you’ll always be my baby and I,” he places a hand over his chest, “will always take care of my dear Julia.”  He points at the camera super adorably.

He always manages to make me smile.

He smiles back at me but then slowly he frowns, “I just wish you’d know how I really feel in my heart though.”

“What do you mean, sweetie?”

“It’s like, sometimes I don’t know if you understand how much I love you.  I guess I reacted that way because if you could put yourself in my shoes and really see from my eyes, you’d understand.”

I wait for him to continue.

“What if I went to a girl’s place at this kind of hour and hanged out with several girls by myself, how would you feel?”

_Hmm.  I’d probably feel a bit uneasy but I’m not going to admit that to give him the satisfaction…and honestly, I can’t really picture him in that situation because Jeff doesn’t really have many lady friends.  All his best buddies are guys._

“I trust you so I think it’d be fine.  Why, do you have any upcoming gatherings with your lady friends?” I keep that innocent look on my face.

“Julia,” he sighs, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Jeff, sweetheart,” I sit with my back straight.  “You know that I have a lot of friends, both boys and girls.  It was already like that when we first met!  The guys never really do anything to me and you know it.”

“Yes, but –“

“But you’re thinking too much.” I show him the ring on my finger.  “See this?  I love  _YOU_ and you’re going to be my husband.  I love  _YOU_ , remember!”

“I love you too.”

I hold my breath and listen carefully when I hear someone approaching the room, since it’d be rather embarrassing to have other people hear us going all “I love you” and “I love you too”.  I glance towards the door to show Jeff why I’ve stopped and then I see a quick dark figure walking past outside it.  Okay, it’s just Joseph heading to the bathroom.

So that means it’s probably a break from the tennis match!  Let me check.

“Hang on,” I tell Jeff before I poke my head out to see what’s going on inside the living room.  Tom and Zachary are talking to each other but they’re not looking at the TV.  I was right.

I have an idea!

“Wait here baby, I’ll be right back.” I show my head from the side of the webcam and then walk out of the bedroom as normally as I can, trying to conceal the excitement I have inside.

“Tom?  Zach?” I double over when I’m behind Tom and Zach and rest my forearms on the back of the sofa between them.

Zach turns his head to look at me while Tom replies, “Oh yes, darling?  Is everything okay?”

“Yes yes, everything’s perfect!”  I grin at him.  “I’m just erm, thinking to ask you guys for a favor…?”

“Anything for you, dear.”  Tom replies without any hint of hesitation.

“Sure thing,” Zachary says at the same time.

“I’m just wondering, if you can go and, say hi to Jeff on the webcam?  He didn’t ask for it or anything, I just want to surprise him.  I only told him to hold on when he’s still on the webcam now.  And also,” I turn to Zach.  “We’re such a big fan of  _Chuck_!  We’ve got the DVDs of all seasons at his place!”

That does it for Zachary because he immediately gets up with a big proud grin on his face, announcing, “Anything for my fans!”  He walks towards the bedroom, “Is it this way?  Does he know you’re gonna ask us?”

“No he doesn’t,” I smirk cheekily.

I follow close behind because I am dying to see how Jeff would react.  As we walk in, I can see Jeff is still on the screen.  I think he’s on some other pages at the moment.  And it seems that Zachary is planning to sneak up on him once that he sees Jeff is not looking at the webcam – he sits on the chair very carefully, and places his arms against the edge of the desk in a very formal way.

Zach clears his throat, looking totally Chuck-like now, “Casey?  Are you there, Casey?”

Jeff hears it and looks confused, trying to find where the voice comes from.

“Casey?  It’s Chuck!”  Zach tries again.

Jeff finally looks at the webcam and oh my god, that look on his face is priceless.  He widens his eyes in surprise and immediately bursts out laughing, so hard that his eyes become two thin curves.  “Hi!” Jeff finally says.

Zach stays in his character, “Casey, you never ‘hi’ me.  What’s wrong with you today, sir?”

That makes Jeff laugh even more.  “Oh…sweet Jesus, I love your show.  I really do!  I’ve bought all the DVDs.  You’re awesome!”

Zach decides to stop acting goofy and greets Jeff more formally.  While they’re at it, I turn around to check if Tom’s there. 

He’s standing there, leaning against the doorframe and watching the whole scene.  He’s smiling back when I look at him but that smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Nice meeting you, Jeff.  Have a good one, man.”  Zachary waves at Jeff as he stands up.

“Hey why is nobody in the living room?  Come on, mates!”  Joseph’s just walked out of the bathroom and he’s walking back towards the TV.

Zachary walks out of the room to join him, and smile at Tom on his way out, “Your turn!”

I walk in front of the camera and bend down to show my face, “Helloooooo!”  I wave at Jeff, who still looks overjoyed to have met Zachary Levi.  “Wait, there’s one more!” 

I go and pull Tom towards the computer.  I swear that I sense Tom’s reluctance but he pulls himself together quickly and sits down in front of the computer screen.

“Hello Jeff, I’m Tom.”


	24. Tom charms Jeff and Just That

Jeff is still having the “oh my god I can’t believe it” grin after talking to Zachary Levi, but as Tom sits down in front of the webcam, in spite of the still-present smile, Jeff’s eyes turn into a “oh my god I can’t believe this shit dares to talk to me” glare.

I thought it would be a good idea because they can see each other just so that…Tom has a more realistic image of Jeff and Jeff can see that Tom is okay.  And then everything will be back to normal and my headache can stop. 

Or so I hope.

I suddenly realize what I’ve done and I’m freaking out inside, since the air feels almost electric from the hostility and tension from the two men, even though they’re only eyeing each other through a computer monitor.  I am already planning to accidentally kick loose the power cord, or switch off the light so that Jeff may think the power goes out, or yell “fire!” from inside the kitchen, or I don’t know…throw a mug of water on Tom, or I can throw it on myself, DO SOMETHING!

“Ah, hi, Tom.” I can hear Jeff’s voice from the speakers – it sounds…flat.

“Hello, how do you do?” Tom nods politely.  “Congratulations, by the way.”

“…Erm, thanks.”

“How’s the wedding preparation going?” Casually, Tom asks.  “It must be very exciting.”

I can’t believe how Tom takes control of the whole situation.  Two seconds ago, I was worrying that he would burn a hole in the screen with his eyes and then the next minute, he’s acting all polite and normal.  You have to be impressed with his acting skills.  Or of course, it  _could_  be completely genuine.  But then suddenly that thought makes me hope that Tom would never act or hide himself behind a mask when he’s with me.

“It’s going very smoothly, thanks for asking.”  Jeff still looks a little bit star struck but I can tell that he’s pulling himself together.  “Congratulations to you too on the success of your movies.  They are amazing!   _Thor_  was one of the movies Julia and I watched together when I visited her, we enjoyed it a lot.”

 _Argh.  Yeah, good job at peeing on that tree_.

“Ooh, bless you for saying that.  I am incredibly proud to be a part of it, it was such a privilege.”  Tom sounds almost normal now.

“Yeah, you’ve done such an awesome job on being the villain.  I can’t even picture you being Thor instead of Loki now – I heard that you auditioned for Thor before, right?”  Jeff adds.   _Wait, was that supposed to be a positive or negative comment?_

“Yes, but I’m thankful that they let me play Loki instead.  I had so much fun doing it…I am still having fun doing it.”

“Wait, aren’t they shooting Thor 2 there in London right now?”

“Yes indeed we are,” Tom beams.

“And Tom showed me the – “ Simply hearing the words ‘Thor 2’ gets me so excited that I forget it’s supposed to be top secret!  I stop myself in mid-sentence, just a nanosecond before Tom turns his head side-way and raises an eyebrow (I can only see half of his face) at me, giving me a knowing smile.  I stare at him with widened eyes like a scared rabbit.

Tom holds his forefinger up his lips and does a silent “shhh”, before turning his head back to the screen.

Jeff sees everything onscreen and looks puzzled at our exchange, “Oh come on, what did he show you?” 

I want to tell him so badly but I guess I really can’t.

“I’m sorry but it’s the property of Marvel’s, and it’s top secret.  If she tells you, the Marvel snipers will need to take her out.  You wouldn’t want that now, would you?”  Tom says to Jeff.

Jeff tries to look past Tom at me and gives me his adorable pleading face, “Julia, pleeeeaaaase?”  He even puts his palms together to make it even cuter.

Tom bursts out laughing, “Alright, alright…since you ask so nicely.  But please do it when I can’t hear you so that I can deny everything,” Tom winks at me.  “But this would be the only person Julia can tell it to.  And Jeff, you need to swear you won’t mention it to anyone.”

“Cross my heart.”  Jeff gestures.

I punch the air and quietly shout, “YES!” behind Tom, which makes both of them laugh.  Both of them can see me on the screen.

“You’re one lucky man, Jeff.”  Tom says as he shakes his head between giggles.

Jeff seems to be a bit startled at the sudden remark but he replies with a warm smile, “Yes, I know.  She’s my everything…thanks for taking care of her while she’s there, man.”

“My pleasure.  It’s been fun.”

 _Are they seriously talking about me in front of me?_   “Hey!” I protest.  “Stop being so disgusting, you two.  EWW!”

“Tom!  You’re missing the game!”  Zach calls from the living room.

“I’ll be there!”  Tom yells towards the door, and immediately looks at the monitor again.  “It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Jeff.  I need to go back to my guests now, I’m afraid.”

“Of course, and me too.  Have a good day, Tom, ah, night.”  Jeff scratches his head in embarrassment.

“Thank you.  Excuse me then.”  Tom stands up politely and gives a little wave at the webcam.

_I am glad that it turned out fine after all.  It was totally civil._

Tom gives my shoulder a little squeeze before walking out of the room, “Come join us for the match when you finish, alright?”

“Alright!”  I hop to the chair and say “hi” to Jeff excitedly for the millionth time tonight.  “So?”

“Wow!”

“Hahahaa, and you can go ahead and brag about it at work tomorrow, that you just talked to Chuck and Loki on webcam!”

Jeff gives me a funny look, “Yeah, as if any of them would actually believe me.”

“They can come to me to verify, hehehe!”  I offer.  “And thanks for being nice, baby.”

“Well, I might have wanted to be mean to him but somehow I couldn’t,” Jeff clears his throat.  “He’s a nice dude.  I hate to admit it but he’s quite charming!  You’re crazy that you still stick with me, hahaha!”

“Sweetie, you know I love you.”  I roll my eyes.

Jeff replies with a warm smile, “I love you too.  God, I mean, if I were a girl I would definitely fall for a guy like Tom!  How can you stay so clear-headed?”

I didn’t expect he would ask this.  I pout and think for a second, “Hmm, to be honest, Tom is like the perfect guy a girl can ever have.  If I hadn’t known you first, I would’ve gone after him.”  I pull a funny face at Jeff.

He shakes his head with a smile, “thank you for sticking with me, babe.  Tom Hiddleston can really make any man feel inferior.”

“Oh c’mon, honey.”

“If I had a daughter,” Jeff continues.  “I would be proud if she could find someone like him.  He seems to be such a nice person.”

“He is!”

Jeff suddenly sticks his tongue out at me, “Sorry that you know me first, hehehee!”

“Huh!”  I wrinkle my nose playfully.

“Loki me!”  Jeff is so adorable whenever he makes his Avengers reference.

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you know you love me!”  He makes a kissy face.

“Stop!  I’m at someone else’s home,” I giggle.  “Hey sweetie I think I should go, or it’d be too late.”

“I almost forgot about that!  Okay take care sweetheart, talk to you later!”

“Talk to you later, bye!”

We wave and click “exit”.  I close the page I’ve opened and leave the computer on before I walk back into the room.  The guys are glued to the TV with their mouths open in concentration.  They don’t even notice my re-appearance.

I wait until they breathe again and announce, “Hey guys I gotta go, I don’t want to miss the last Tube.”

They look at me with a blank expression on their faces and then suddenly all start saying, “No, it’s too late!” “It’s dangerous for you to be alone out there now!” “Wait until the game’s finished!”

“Ah, but wouldn’t it be even later?” I look confused.

“Nah,” Zach waves.  “We’ll need to leave later anyway.  We can give you a lift.”

“Yeah, stay!” Joseph agrees.

“Alright,” I shrug.

They’ve kept “my spot” on the couch, between Tom and Zachary, so I go ahead and sit between them again to watch the match.

Tennis is a sport that’s easy enough to understand so it’s not difficult to tell that this is a really, really heated game.  But I mean, it’s late and I’m still consuming alcohol (Tom has taken out a bottle of wine on top of the beers Zach brought).  The game is absolutely not boring but I’m starting to yawn non-stop – the more I try to mask them the more I yawn and the more my eyes water.  I just want to be in my own hotel bed and sleep!

My head feels heavy and my eye lids feel even heavier…I think I can at least use the back of the sofa to support my head so that I can focus all my strength on keeping my attention on the TV.  So there I am, leg-crossed, arms-crossed, and having slid my butt towards the edge to let my head rest on the back of the seat, desperately forcing myself to keep staying awake until the match is finished.

 _Click_.

The sound of the door being gently closed wakes me up.

The TV is still on but it’s mute, and there is only one warm body next to me.  In fact, my head is resting on his shoulder.  Seeing that I’m waking up, Tom gives a kiss on my hair, “Hey.”

I blink hard and try to force open my eyelids which feel like they’re made of lead.  And then I spring up straight, “HEY!  Where are they?  Didn’t they say they’d give me a lift?  Did they  _just_  leave?”

 Tom lets out some soft, tired laughs, “We all agreed that it’d be best to let you sleep and you can go back in the morning.”

“Argh, I’ve paid for the room.”  I slouch at the thought of money being wasted.

“I’m sure my bed is more comfortable than that one in the hotel,” Tom winks.

“So?”  His bed is none of my business.  He can have the comfiest bed in the world and that has nothing to do with me.

_Wait.  His bed?  HIS BED?  What are you talking about, Tom?  I am not going to bed with you!_

It almost feels like he can read my mind at the moment and replies instantly, “Go and take my bed.  I’ll sleep on the sofa here.”

I blush at my own crazy thought and even though I haven’t said anything, I think that Tom did read my mind, and he  _knows_  what I’m thinking.  “No, it’s fine…I can still call a taxi to go back to the hotel.”

“Darling,” Tom’s not smiling anymore.  “It’s dangerous out there at this hour.  Please stay, okay?  Please save me the trouble of worrying about your safety out there?”

He’s not really giving me an option here so after a second of consideration, I murmur, “Okay.  But I can take the sofa, no problem.  I mean, you’re tall and it’ll feel really uncomfortable sleeping on the couch.”

He raises a corner of his lips and waves it off, “It’s alright.  Just see it as my expression of gratitude to you when you gave up your bed for me.”  He pats on my back and winks, “Now go, get off my sofa.”

What else can I do but to stand up obediently and do as he says?  I walk to the bathroom to rinse my mouth (I’m so not used to not brushing my teeth at night by the way…) and wash my face before dragging my feet to Tom’s bedroom.  What time is it now?  It feels terribly late, like I-should-be-in-bed-3-hours-ago kind of late.  Tom’s shadow passes by the door as I switch the light off.  “Good night, darling.”  His voice echoes softly along the little hallway.

“Good night, Tom.  Sleep tight.”

I choose the side that faces away from the door because I feel more secure to sleep in a closed space, and I don’t want Tom to be able to see my ugly sleeping face if he wakes up before I do and sees me from the door. 

I carefully put my engagement ring on the bedside table, taking a one last look at it before letting my glasses join it on its side.  I never wear my engagement ring to bed because…well it may sound silly but I’m constantly worried that I may forget it’s there, and if I rub my eyes in the morning, the diamond is going to cut my eyes.  That’s why I always take it off at night.  It’s quite a humble diamond ring but I really like it.  The diamond is tiny but this is exactly what I want because I really don’t want Jeff to spend so much money on a ring.  We chose it together after looking at hundreds of them – big, small, expensive, cheap, fancy, ugly, plain, all of them.  We spent the whole afternoon going to shops after shops, and just when we were at the very last shop, thinking if there’s none we like, we’d wait until some other day to continue our hunt.  But then of course, there it is, sitting in a velvet cushion shining, calling me from behind a display window.  It’s a small diamond fixed on a petal-shaped setting with each of the prongs look like a tiny heart if you look at it from the top, while the band itself is swirled to make it look like a leaf on each side of the diamond.  It’s on sale too and I always love a bargain so we went into the shop to look.  I fell in love with it right there.  I don’t care if the diamond is only 0.1 carat (the petal-shaped setting around it makes it look bigger anyway hahahaha), I absolutely adore the design.  And guess what, there’s only one left in the shop and it fits me perfectly.  I’m destined to have it!  After buying the ring, it was in Jeff’s possession for 2 months before he officially proposed.  I accidentally sabotaged all his original plans so somehow he ended up proposing in his home, right after waking me up from my afternoon nap.  I can’t even remember the beautiful speech he said to me (I don’t remember what he said but I do remember it was beautiful) and until this day I’d keep bugging him to recite that speech to me again.  He keeps telling me that he’s forgotten what he said exactly though, and every single time he would add, “You said yes!  So you can’t say no now.”

A smirk creeps across my face when I think of how adorable Jeff can be sometimes.  And the way he said that if he were a girl he would fall for Tom?  Priceless.  Even Jeff needs to admit that Tom is one hell of a man…yes I know, Tom’s pretty much perfection isn’t he?

Argh.  I don’t know.  Still, how can he do that to me?  I love Jeff and I…am attracted to Tom.  I admit it.  And he can definitely offer much more to me than Jeff can.  Would Jeff be happy for me if…

What the hell, Julia?  Stop this absurd thought!  What the hell.

I narrow my eyes to try to have a more focused sight of my pretty engagement ring next to my head.  Now  _that_ , is where you belong.


	25. Notes

Tom’s right, his bed is a whole lot better than the one in my hotel room.  To begin with, it’s so much bigger, I feel like I can stretch my legs and arms for as far as I want to and it would never feel like I’ve reached the end.  Oh well, except on my side because I’m sleeping on the edge.  The duvet is light, fluffy and soft but it does its job to keep me warm.  I can’t remember the last time I slept this well.  I think I dream briefly before I wake up to some bouncing sensation in the bed but I fall back asleep again in 2 seconds after that.  Finally it isn’t a disturbing dream.  I was only on a train platform which looked very vintage and European, waiting to board a train.  The whole dream was in sepia too.  It was dark and drizzling but it felt calm and quiet, even though the platform was full of passengers and a lot of luggage was neatly lined up around one of the street lamps.

Usually I can’t go back to a deep sleep again after being woken up, and it’s no different today.  As the room gets brighter from the risen sun, I pull myself up from the bed, turn, and my toes carefully test the temperature of the floor – which is a bit cool but it’s not that cold.  The first thing I do every morning is to put my glasses on because without them, I won’t be able to see a thing clearly.  But there’s something unusual this morning – on top of where my glasses are, there was a piece of paper folded in half.

 

I lift that piece of paper and put on my eyeglasses to see better – it has my name written on it.  With that still in my hand, I listen carefully and the apartment does sound empty.  So Tom’s probably out and he left me a note.

**_Julia,_ **

**_This is just in case if you wake up before my return.  I’ve gone running and I shall be back soon.  I’ll bring back breakfast._ **

**_x_ **

**_Tom_ **

I walk out of the bedroom and check the living room.  Yeah it’s empty.  I don’t know how long it’d take for Tom to come back so I’d better go freshen up in the bathroom first.

While I’m in there, I think about all sorts of things: how many days do I have left here in London?  What time is the flight?  What should I do for the remaining days?  So did Tom sit on the bed when he got ready for his run this morning?  Wait.  Does that mean he got changed right there when I was sleeping?  That would explain that bounce I felt earlier this morning.   _Gasp_.  I shake my head.   _Erase that image erase that image!  So…he GOT CHANGED right there!  Argh.  Delete delete!_  

The sound of the main door closing yanks me back to the real world.

“Tom?” I call from inside the bathroom.

“Hey, you’re awake!  I’ve got us fresh croissants and muffins and scones!  Come on out when you’re ready.”  Tom sounds very energized and chirpy.

I hurriedly take one last look of myself in the mirror, flip my hair and walk out of the bathroom.  The tempting smell of the fresh bakery already fills every corner of the apartment, with a hint of the saltiness of sweat when Tom leans in for a kiss on the cheek just as I walk out, “Good morning, darling!”  He doesn’t wait for my answer and adds, “Oh sorry!  I shouldn’t do that, I’m so sweaty right now!”  He tries to gently wipe where he’s kissed with the towel he’s holding, just for a few times, and then he rushes into the bathroom.

“Ah, good morning, Tom.”  I reply, still standing in the hallway.

“I’ll be with you in a second, just need to take a quick shower first.  Make yourself comfortable,” Tom grins before he closes the bathroom door.

And then I hear those ruffling sounds of fabric – Tom and I are only probably 3 feet away, separated by the bathroom door.  I can hear pretty much everything and I know he’s taking off his clothes.  I need to walk away but it’s so quiet in the apartment that I don’t dare to move, just in case I’d make any squeaky noise on the floorboard, because obviously I’ve waited a bit too long to do that and Tom may wonder what I’ve been doing next to the bathroom door, so I wait until I can hear the water is on to start moving.  I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I feel like I should sanitize my brain.  I should go back to my hotel room to take a shower too, since I’ve been in these clothes for an entire day.

I follow the mouthwatering smell into the dining room, where Tom has put the bag of fresh bakery on the table.

Tom reappears behind me when I am busy taking the plates and tableware from the kitchen cabinets.  His hair is still wet but he’s having a towel hung around his neck to stop the hair from dripping. 

“Wow, you’re quick!”  It must have only been 5 minutes and he’s done, like Superman getting changed in the phone booth.

Tom winks, “Well, I did say a ‘quick’ shower, didn’t I?”  Tom gets two glasses from the top shelf, “What do you want to drink?  I’ve got milk, fruit juice…or do you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Orange juice would be lovely.”

Breakfast is simple but absolutely enjoyable.  Fresh bakery is always the best when they’re still hot and you can really smell that warmness…and also how the preserves or clotted cream react with the hot surfaces of the scones!  Yeah I know how cliché that sounds to have scones in London, but it’s perfect.  I can’t believe Tom has bought so many things but he explains that he didn’t know what I prefer so he simply got everything at a bakery nearby on his way back home. 

Neither of us talks about yesterday.  I play along, not wanting to ruin the moment, because I really don’t want to lose Tom.  If we can be best buddies, that’s already more than I can ever ask for.

“Hey, I hope you slept alright on the sofa last night?”  I catch a glimpse of the neatly-folded blanket on the sofa and it reminds me of that.

“It’s alright,” says Tom.  “I just don’t understand how you could sleep in a chair though.  You really should’ve woken me up that night!”

“It takes lots of practice, considering me flying around in economy class so often.”  I shrug.

He cringes at the thought, “It’s often quite dreadful to be on a plane, especially if you need to do a long-haul.”

“I guess you need to fly around quite a lot for work?”

“Yeah, but usually it’s not too bad, if we’re only flying around Europe or to the east coast of the states,” Tom reaches for another croissant.

“For me it’s horrible to fly to the east coast, it takes me 16 hours just to get to New York.  And if I want to go to Montreal to visit Jeff, I’ll need to wait a few hours there for transit before boarding another flight.”

Tom pulls a terrified face, “I don’t even want to imagine it.  Speaking of which, it’s the day to remember New York again isn’t it?”

“Oh,” I look down.  “Yes, it is.”

“I can’t believe it’s been so many years already, I can still remember it like it’s yesterday.”  Tom stops eating and starts playing with his food.

“Same here.  I remember I was still in a happy mood because it was my birthday the day before, and then suddenly I saw that on TV…and at first I thought it was a movie, that couldn’t be real…I sat in front of the TV for hours that night.”

“Wait, it was your birthday yesterday?” Tom’s eyes are widened.

I calculate the date in my head and think about what I’ve just said.   _Damn, I forgot my own birthday again?_   “Aah, yes it seems like it was.  Ha.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Apparently I don’t even remember it myself.  And I don’t really celebrate birthdays so…”

“That’s rare, why?”

“Because I believe that celebrating birthdays makes people self-centered.  They didn’t do anything special on the day when they were born, instead, it’s a day to say thank you to your own mother because that’s the day when she suffered in severe pain.  I always give presents to my parents on my birthday to thank them.”   _Hm, I should get my parents something too when I go back._

Tom smiles thoughtfully, “Wow, that’s a good reason.  I wish more people would think like you.  I should get my mother something too for my next birthday to thank her for bringing me to this world and raising me.”  He pauses, “You’re extraordinary, Julia.”

“Huh?  I’m definitely not.”

“Don’t devalue yourself, darling.”

I can feel that weird, intimate air starting to form around us and I clear my throat to push that away, “Well,” I’ve finished my breakfast and begin to sweep the crumbles off the edge of the table to my hand, “Thanks for everything, Tom.  Thank you for the breakfast.  I should probably go back.”

“There’s no hurry!  I don’t need to work until late morning.”  Tom cups my hand that’s on the table, trying desperately to keep me there.

“I really should go back, I need a shower and a change of clothes,” I insist.

Tom sighs, “Okay little one, if you insist.  When are you leaving London again?”

My heart sinks at the question.  I don’t want to think about leaving because this can mean the end of this.  I may never see Tom again after I leave.  “This Friday.  I’m going back home on Friday afternoon.”  I say as I put on my sweater and put my arm through the handle of my handbag that I’ve left on the coffee table the night before.

Tom walks me to the door, “We’ll make these days count then.  You’ve timed your trip really well, it’s right when I’m having my little break between my projects.”

“Perfect,” I turn around to wave bye, but I get wrapped in his long arms instead.

He’s holding me tightly and certainly longer than how usual good-bye hugs are supposed to be.  He lowers his head and buries his face in my hair, taking me in.  “Let’s make these days count,” he repeats.  I can feel his heart beating against my skin.  He’s obviously feeling quite emotional and it makes my nose feel sour – now I can’t stop thinking that there are only 2 days left to see him and I’ll probably need to say goodbye to him forever.  I hug him back with my free arm (since the other one is trapped in his embrace) and give him a few weak pats on his waist.

“Okay, we’ll do that.”

He holds me for two more seconds and gives me a wide smile, “Yes we will.”

“See you later, Tom.  Nice day.”  I turn the doorknob.

“You too.”

When I take the elevator down, I double-check if I’ve got everything.  I don’t want to leave anything behind again like I did last time.  And then I see this envelope in my bag, with my name handwritten on it.  It is tightly sealed so I think I’ll need to find somewhere to sit down to read it…of course it’s from Tom but what does he say?  I’m dying to know but I manage to make it all the way back to my hotel room before carefully tearing the flap open, not wanting to drop anything from inside.  In it I find two folded pieces of paper, words are written on both sides of each.

**_Dearest Julia,_ **

**_I need to write this letter to you because I know I do not have the courage to say it to you face to face._ **

**_Yesterday was the best day of my life because I could spend it with you.  I’m sorry that I made you cry but please do understand that I didn’t mean to.  I only wanted to tell you how I feel.  Please accept my utmost gratitude for keeping me company for the entire day._ **

**_The truth is, I have not felt closer to anyone before.  I’ve never felt this way before.  I heard you and Jeff last night – we all did.  I feel bad for coming between you two but Julia, I believe we met for a reason.  I remember the time when we had breakfast near St. Paul’s Cathedral and you told me all about timing, how sometimes people choose to spend the rest of their lives with someone simply because of the time they come into their lives…our timing may not be perfect but I feel like we are given the opportunity to know each other just in time.  Why do you think this would happen right before your wedding?  I apologize if I have crossed the line here by saying this.  I’m not implying anything…Jeff is a great guy and I believe he treats you well._ **

**_It’s probably because it’s September 11 again and I can’t help but keep thinking that we ought not to live with any regrets.  I know it hasn’t been long since we first met, but if I don’t at least try now, I know I will regret it later.  So Julia, can you please give me a chance?  I cannot promise you the moon or a guaranteed happily-ever-after, but I promise I’ll always cherish you and care about you, and will do my best to keep you smiling, for having the privilege to be able to make you happy is now my goal in life._ **

**_If I remember correctly, you are going to leave London on Friday, right?  It breaks my heart to know that you’ll be away after that.  I surely hope we’ll still see each other soon again.  I am determined to make good use of the last 2 days you’re here and make your trip as unforgettable as it can ever be!  Please don’t run away from me yet!  I’ll see you tomorrow._ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Thomas_ **

What did I just read?  I blink and shake my head.  And then I read the letter again.

I thought he’s given up, I thought…I mean, he’s been friendly and friendly  _only_  after begging me to stay behind to practice the lines with him.  And he seemed normal when he talked to Jeff and also during the night and this morning.  I really thought…

I read the letter  _again_.

No this can’t be.  When did he write this?  He mentioned Jeff on the webcam so that has to be…before he went to sleep or this morning before I woke up.  Tom, why don’t you understand?  It’s not only about Jeff and me, it’s about his family and mine too!  I can’t just cancel everything like that.  Oh God, Tom, why do you need to do this to me?  I can’t, I  _can’t_!

I don’t know what to do.  I try to go online to browse at stuff to take my mind off things a bit. 

Wow.  Tom has really tweeted a lot – I can see all his updates on Facebook.  He must be tweeting like crazy last night about the tennis tournament:

#####    
Tom Hiddleston

7 hours ago via WhoSay Broadcast

Andy Murray VS Novak Djokovic in the Fourth Set of the US Open 2012. CLASH OF THE TITANS.

#####  [  
](http://www.facebook.com/twhiddleston)**Tom Hiddleston**

7 hours ago via WhoSay Broadcast

Andy Murray is on fire. After four hours. On fire. Where does he find the strength. I am in awe. #usopen

#####  [  
](http://www.facebook.com/twhiddleston)**Tom Hiddleston**

6 hours ago via WhoSay Broadcast

Andy Murray isn’t the next Fred Perry. He’s the first Andy Murray. An exceptional display of both strength and will. A champion.

 

 

This is feeling really strange.  I think he tweeted all those when I was sleeping with my head on his shoulder.  That memory gives me a strange sense of intimacy.  Damn, this is really messing with my head.  I slam close my netbook.  I feel sorry for myself that I go and look at Tom’s online updates when I meant to take my mind off from him in the first place.

Without looking at the time, I dial a number on my phone, not even caring how much it would cost on an internationally roaming cell phone.

“Hello.”

“We need to talk.”


	26. What does Your Heart Say?

“Are you okay, Julia?” Alice sounds worried.  I’m glad that she’s a morning person and I don’t seem to have disrupted her sleep or anything.

“Oh gosh, no.  Not okay at all.” I exhale.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry that I keep calling you every time when I need someone to talk to.  You’re like a big sister to me and also because you’re the only one I can talk to about this  _specific_ topic.”  I sit heavily on the end of the bed.

“What has Tom done?”  I can hear that Alice is shaking her head.  And see?  She knows, she knows!

“Will you be able to come out to talk, like um, over dinner?”

“Of course, I’ll meet you after work.  Let’s meet at…6?”

“Okay, I’ll make a reservation somewhere near your work.  Text you later.”

“Alright, see ya.”

I do a quick search online of the restaurants around that area and make a booking with this Thai restaurant which has good reviews and doesn’t break my wallet for eating there.

The next thing I must do is to take a shower, I am grateful that it’s not been hot at all but I really should spend some time in the bathroom, even though I do admit that I’m a bit reluctant to take off these clothes that Tom has hugged and touched.  Argh, don’t be silly.  Take them off.

_Hang on.  Something’s missing._

I look down at my fourth finger on my left hand. 

Shit.

I left my engagement ring right there at Tom’s!  The note he put on top of my glasses and the letter distracted me so much this morning that I’ve totally forgotten about my ring.  It must still be sitting on the nightstand next to Tom’s bed.  I wince at the need to contact Tom after such a short time I’ve read his letter, but I guess it’s a good excuse to talk to him about something else so I send him a text:

**Tom, can you pls check if I’ve left my ring on the night table next to your bed? I think I forgot it there. Thanks!**

I’ll let my phone wait while I go take my much-needed shower.

I can’t believe I’ve forgotten my ring.  That has never happened before!  Jeff’s going to be mad if he ever finds out…he would undoubtedly think that I don’t care about it enough to remember it all the time or something.  And of course he’ll blame Tom for that.  Maybe he wouldn’t overreact but …he’ll definitely ask questions if he knows.  He must be feeling insecure enough with the fact that Tom is in the same city with me.

Gosh, now that I realize I don’t have my ring, I suddenly feel so…naked.

Anyway, only three more days and I’ll be out of here.  I guess my skin and hair would thank me because my hair has never been more tangled in my life, and my skin has never been dryer (okay, except the time when I was in Sierra Vista, AZ, but that’s another story) because of the stupid hard water.  I’m losing my hair like crazy too.  I step out of the shower, throw a towel around my neck, try to keep my dripping wet hair out of the way and wipe my hand before checking my phone to see if Tom has sent a reply:

**I find it and will keep it safe for you until we meet next time.  Have a good day, darling.  Tom  P.S. You have remarkably tiny fingers!**

His additional comment makes me giggle – what, did he try on my ring?  I almost ask him that but I stop myself.  Instead I only type:

**Thanks a lot.  See you.**

I don’t hear anything from him even until it’s time to get ready to go out to meet Alice.  Perhaps he finally gets the message?  Did he get my text at all?  Or have I upset him?  Was I too rude?  Sigh, no matter what, it’s time for me to go.    Having spent so much time here in London for this trip, I can almost memorize all the lines of the Tube and I remember Temple station isn’t far away from here.  I leave my hotel room at 5:30pm after I’ve told Alice where to go earlier.  I keep checking my phone on my way there but I’m not going to admit that to anybody.

The maître d’ seats me behind one of the artificial palm trees.  All the candles on the tables are already lit for the dinner guests, which makes the restaurant feel quite tranquil, along with the soothing, exotic instrumental music they’re playing in the background.  All of these are much appreciated because I am feeling hundreds of butterflies in my stomach while I’m waiting for Alice.  I’ve got that letter from Tom in my handbag…if I can’t explain things clearly, I can always show that to her and she’ll understand what’s going on.  I’m nervous as hell to tell her that though, especially how she reacted last time, asking me to tell Tom that we’re only friends and asking me not to fall for Tom.  That felt like a century ago even though that has only happened on the day before yesterday.

I am struggling between the  _Tub Tim Siam Menu_ or the  _Ploy Pai Lin Menu_  when Alice arrives.  I smile at her as she takes off her thin trench coat and rests that on the back of her chair before sitting down. 

“Hey,” I give a little wave at her after she settles down.

“You have to tell me, what did he do this time?” Alice doesn’t waste any time.

“I did what you asked me to do, but…” I instinctively try to avoid eye contact from her.

“But…?”  Alice prompts.

I keep looking down, “But I guess it’s a bit too late.”

Alice grabs the edge of the table with both her hands, looking tense, “What do you mean?”

“Basically he told me that he’s attracted to me and he wanted me to reconsider the possibility that something could happen between us.”

“Oh dear Lord.  How could he?”

“I’ve asked him not to, but I don’t think he’s listening.  He went on and on about living without regrets and making yourself happy.”  I explain.

“God, that’s it!  I’m going to – “ Alice seems rather distraught.

“And he gave me this.”  I get the letter out and give it to Alice.

“What’s this?” Alice questions as she takes it across the table.

I sit there staring at her reading the letter with her fingers pressed against her lower lip.  One of the waitresses approaches our table probably to see if we’re ready to order but I shake my head slightly at her with a weak smile so that she can give us some more minutes.

Finally, after several minutes of painful silence, Alice looks up to me from the letter, “Why in the bloody hell would he think it’s fine to write such a thing?  He’s being so…reckless!  Julia, I’m truly sorry…”

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress appears next to our table.

I take a quick glance at Alice, who nods at me hastily and reads the menu quickly.  “Um, yes,” I decide that I’d need that dessert after all.  “I’ll have the  _Tub Tim Siam_ , curry prawns and erm, with Pad Thai.”

“Okay…” she scribbles the order on her pad.  “And for you, ma’am?”

“I’ll order from the same menu…I’ll have the sirloin beef with…the fried rice.”

Alice resumes the conversation straightaway after the waitress turns her back towards us.  She sighs, “Like I said, I’m really sorry.  I can never expect anything like this…I only wanted to give you a chance to meet an actor you like and nothing more.  Never in a million years could I foresee this.”

“It’s not your fault, please don’t blame yourself.”

“But I dragged you into this.  Oh god…I really shouldn’t have.  If only there were things that I could do to help fix this.”  Alice sounds defeated.

I lean forward, “Alice, please.  It’s alright, I’ll be outta here on Friday anyway, and that should make things simpler, or even back to normal.”

“I hope so.”

I trace the trim of the water glass before drinking a mouthful.  “Hey, what’s wrong with your fingers?”  Alice notices the bandages on my right hand.

“Oh, just me being clumsy,” I almost forgot about them.  “I was trying to catch a falling opened can.”

“Not a smart move,” Alice shakes her head.  She knows all about my clumsiness.  Suddenly she stops and looks at my left hand, “Oh?  And you forgot to wear your ring!”

I scratch my head, “Yeah…I got distracted and left it at Tom’s yesterday.”

“Why would you take your ring off?”

“I always take it off whenever I go to sleep,” I raise a finger to stop Alice before she can think of anything ridiculous.  “We were watching the US Open with some friends of his and then it went on until too late, like 2 in the morning, and so Tom offered his bed to me while he slept in the living room.  Nothing weird happened, okay?”

Alice raises her palms in mid-air, just in time when the waitress comes back and places the platter starter on our table, “I didn’t say anything!”

“Thank you,” I nod at the waitress.  I go for the chicken satay first, “Mmm…this smells good.”

Alice follows suit but she asks another question before her mouth touches the food, “Honestly, how do you feel?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you feel?  What does your heart tell you?” She takes a big bite of the chicken.

“I…I don’t know.  I think I’m trying to stop thinking.  To me, this is not real, and the whole thing would simply be a distant memory when I go back home.”  I try to spear my fork through a spring roll.

There are a few seconds of silence for us to concentrate on the food before Alice asks again, “Do you like him?”

The question nearly makes me spit my food.  Alice has always only questioned Tom’s feelings, not mine.  “Wh…what?  Sorry?”

“Ask yourself, truthfully, do you like Tom?”

I frown, “Of course…I can’t!  I can’t.”

“You do realize you’re not answering my question, right?”

The fried wonton buys me some time as I try to chew on it without making too many noises.  “I cannot like him.”  Somehow, that’s still the only answer I can come up with.

“Do you want me to ask him not to see you for the rest of your trip?  You know, just to make things less uncomfortable?”

“Nah…it’s okay.  If this is what he needs for some sort of closure, then let him have it.  It’d be quite hard to let things end this way too, I guess.”

Alice shrugs, “It’s your choice.”

We manage to finish our platter and the  _Tom Yum Goong_ soupwithout touching the topic of Tom, but when our main courses arrive, I can’t contain myself because I keep feeling this huge rock in my chest and I need to at least try to make it disappear.

“What do you think I should do, Alice?  Please…give me some advice.”  I plead desperately.

With the knife and fork in either of her grip, she freezes and studies my face for a moment, “I can’t make the decision for you, dear.  All I wish right now is that I hadn’t introduced Tom to you but now…what’s happened has happened and there’s nothing we can do about that.  How the story develops now depends on your decision.”

“…I see.”

I feel like I’m back to where I started before I came here to talk to Alice.  I still don’t know what to do and also I’m once again reminded that I’ll need to make the decision myself.  Gosh, how badly do I wish someone could do that for me.  I guess talking to Alice has brought out a fact though – that I need to ask myself, deep inside my heart, to which direction that I want the story goes.  Whatever decision I make, there will be no turning back and someone  _will_  be hurt either way.  Damn…that’s such a huge responsibility.  Of course it’s a dream come true to have someone like Tom falling for you, especially when he’s such an impeccable man.  But how can you break the heart of the man who’s been through so much with you and is ready to spend the rest of his life with you?  Just how, how can you do that?

Dinner is pleasant at the restaurant and Alice hugs me goodbye on the Tube since we are taking the same line but I get off before she does.  She’ll need to work for the coming two days, so she won’t be seeing me.  She also wants to step back and lets Tom and me deal with our issue by ourselves.  She’ll take some hours off to go to the airport with me though on Friday.

I walk back to the hotel with my mind full of questions and stress, my mind is so occupied that I do not pay attention at all when the guy sitting at the front desk tells me to wait, after he hands me my room key.

“Excuse me, miss?”  He tries to say to me a bit more loudly with my back towards him because I’m now waiting for the elevator.

I spin around, “Yes?”

“Here’s your message.”  He gives me an envelope, one that looks way too familiar to me now.  There it is, with my name’s on it again, next to the front desk staff’s handwriting which indicates my room number.

“Thank you.”

The elevator doors open, I step in and press the button, staring at the envelope.   _Hm, what now?_   As the doors close, the guy suddenly yells, “Oh and there’s a delivery in your room too!”


	27. It’s Chapter 27, Time for a…!

“What delivery?” I yell back and scramble to push the “open door” button on the panel but I am not fast enough.  “Damn,” I mutter under my breath.

I decide that I’ll wait until I’m inside my room to open the envelope because the tassel that’s attached to the key is simply too big and heavy for me to leave a spare hand to do anything else.  Seriously, it looks like as if the hotel had taken the tassel tiebacks off from heavy curtains and used them as key chains.  I can’t help but feel a bit nervous when the elevator doors open and I walk along the short corridor towards my room.  What’s the delivery and what has Tom written to me?  There can’t be someone inside my room, can it?

I press my ear against the door to try to pick up any noise but I can’t hear anything.  I slowly put the key inside the lock and turn – before the door is even opened, I can already smell it.  The sweet fragrance of flowers.  There it is, sitting carefully next to the telephone, a glass bucket of pink, magenta and deep red sweet peas.  They smell absolutely…sweet!  And I like it.  There’s a card gently placed on top among the flowers which writes:

**_Sweet peas for my sweet pea.  x T_ **

I let out a slow, quiet sigh.  I’ve never received any flowers…except that time when my aunt bought a bouquet for me when I got my Bachelor’s Degree.  But I’ve never received any flowers romantically.  I know that I’m the one to tell Jeff not to send me flowers because it’s simply a waste of money, and he really listens to me whenever I tell him something so he’s never bought any.  But I need to admit, receiving a bouquet does make someone feel rather special.  Tom, you’re not playing fair.  Not at all.  So what have you written to me this time?

Sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, taking one last look at the flowers, I cautiously peel open the envelope.  I’ve not felt this for a long time…it reminds me of the butterflies you feel when you first feel something for someone.  Except for this time I can’t enjoy the attention.

It’s a blank card with a simple artistic flower printed on the cover.  It takes me no time at all to recognize the handwriting of Tom’s inside:

**_You are cordially invited to join me on the Fantasy Tour in London 2012, presented by Thomas Hiddleston.  Fun, laughter and great time are guaranteed.  The pleasure of your presence will be requested at the hotel lobby at 9:00am on 12 th September 2012._ **

The invitation leaves me in a fit of giggles.  You can’t deny that it is cute and sweet.  Well, well, well…I’ll need to face him somehow, right?  We only have two days to deal with… _this_ , and then we can say our goodbye nicely.  I guess it’s okay to go after all…I _guess_?  I mean, it’s not like I’m married yet or anything, and I’m definitely not cheating, so I’m allowed to go and enjoy London with a friend, right? 

***

When will it be 9am?  I’ve slept very well, especially with that delicate sweet scent in the whole room.  I’ve felt happy and calm for the entire night, even though I did try to hide the flowers from the cam when I talked to Jeff last night, who is absolutely thrilled to be able to see me again next week.  He doesn’t seem to mind too much about Tom like before anymore.  It’s probably because he’s finally realized that I’m not staying here forever and I’ll soon join him in Montreal, so there’s nothing to get worked up over.  Tom tweeted like crazy too yesterday, things about September 11 and movies/work-related stuff and his song of the day was:

##### Tom Hiddleston

18 hours ago via WhoSay Broadcast

Song of the Day: “Go Do”, by Jónsi.

 

I checked the lyrics and perhaps I was thinking too much, but it might very well be the song he was listening to before he sent me the flowers and card.  Yeah…I am definitely thinking too much.

Checking myself in the mirror again for the thousandth time that morning, I smooth the flyaways on my side braid that hangs over my left shoulder to try to make it look better.  But I know my mind is also on something else – I keep thinking of how I should behave for these two days.  Honestly, I do want to enjoy the remaining time with Tom, but I don’t want to enjoy it  _too_  much that it’d make it painful to leave.  I wonder what I should do to make it fair for both Tom and Jeff…it’s finally 8:55am and I check my outfit again – I think I’m wearing the exact things I wore when Tom and I first met: the red top, jeans, white lace flats and the only coat I flew here in.  I feel prettier with the braid though.  I head downstairs.

To my surprise, Tom’s already sitting in one of the two chairs in the tiny hotel lobby (with his legs wide apart again, of course).  The sunlight is shining in through the front door and blurs the silhouette of his profile until he turns his head to look at me when the elevator doors open.

Tom stands up with a huge grin, “Good morning, darling.”

His smile is contagious, I beam back and say, “Good morning.  Thanks for the flowers!”

“You’re welcome.  But that’s the least I can do after making you cry,” he pulls an ‘I am a little puppy and I’m sorry’ face and looks unbearably adorable.

“It’s okay, and – “ I pull the card from my bag, “do I need to show you my invitation for the Fantasy Tour?”

Tom goes “ehehehee” with his tongue kind of sticking out between his teeth, “That wouldn’t be necessary, dear, since this is a private tour and you’re a VIP.  I’ve been assigned to come here especially to pick you up.”

“Oooh?” I raise my eyebrows at the formality in his tone and how funny this whole thing is.  I hand my key (and the stupid gigantic tassel) to the front desk and walk out of the hotel with Tom.

“Alright!”  He claps his hands together the moment when we step out of the doors and are standing on the pavement.  “I’m giving you two options – would you prefer to have breakfast at a fancy place with a long history or at a more local, hole-in-the-wall place that’s more low key?”

“Which one do you recommend?”  I try hard to stifle a giggle.

“I recommend both, my dear.  It’s your choice.”

“I think…you had me at ‘low key’,” I press hard against my lips with my fist to hide the stupid grin.

Realizing what I mean, Tom throws his head back in laughter.  When he recovers, he offers his arm to me, “then my Midgardian lady, let Loki take you to this wonderful low key place.”

Oh boy, this is going to be a great day.  If this is a dream, can I never wake up?  I know I’m thinking silly again but hell, if there are indeed two days left, I may as well try to enjoy it while it lasts.  Just remember where you’ve drawn your line at and you’ll be fine.

The “low key place” is only one station away by Tube.  We get off at High Street Kensington and turn right when we’re on ground level.  I have no idea where I am going so I only follow his lead.  The breakfast place isn’t that much a walk from the station, but I would have never found this place by myself because it’s in some backstreet.  It has a very large glass wall facing the street and all the outdoor deco is in white.  When I look inside I can see the wood panel flooring, which matches with the table surface, while most of the walls are painted mint.  The ambience resembles much the previous one’s where we also had breakfast but this place feels even more local and homey.

“Shall we?”  Tom opens the door for me and releases my arm to let me walk in before him.

We hover around the entrance for a few seconds before a busy waitress spot us and show us our table.  “I’ve never been here before,” Tom admits as we sit down at a table along the wall.  “But the almighty internet told me this is a great place for breakfast.”  He seems to be quite proud of himself.

“I love such atmosphere.  I’d always pick these kinds of places than the fancy ones, to be honest.  I feel more comfortable.”

“I’m happy to know that because I feel the same too,” he smiles at me, showing the wrinkles around his eyes.  “If we had gone to the fancy Wolseley, it’d be more like a treat or an experience rather than really enjoying a breakfast with your loved ones.  It’s the place where all the famous people go, like Paris Hilton and Kate Moss and Madonna.”

“Hey, you didn’t tell me that!  I’d have loved to check it out!”

“And I thought you’re different,” Tom fakes a disappointed look on his face, shaking his head and turning his attention to the menu.

“I’m a tourist, so you know I’d love visiting places like those.”  I defend myself.  “But you know I still like here more.”

With his chin still pointing downward, he looks up at me in a mischievous way with a smirk on his face, “I know, I know.  I was just kidding you.”

I roll my eyes a little unconvincingly, “I know it.”

We both let out weak chuckles and read the menu, until I suddenly point out in a soft voice, “I guess…I’ve just been Loki’d by Loki at a low key place.”

Tom chortles through his nose and he sits back in his chair, his hand covering his mouth, shaking uncontrollably.

I decide to pretend I don’t see that and quickly think of what to eat because I think they’re about to come and take our orders.

And when the waitress comes I order scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and Tom hastily pulls himself together and orders a “New York Breakfast”.  “Anything to drink?” She asks. 

Tom suddenly recalls something, “I heard the smoothie here is good, do you recommend it?”

“Yes, of course!  We have mixed berry or banana.”

“I’ll take the banana,” Tom replies.

“Me too, thanks.”

Tom turns his attention back to me after the interruption, and is now looking at me with smiling eyes.  “How dare you…” he says these words but he makes them sound playful than scary, “mock the God of Mischief?  You human.”

“Sorry?” I shrug.

“Ah!” He remembers something again (how many things does he need to cram into his head this morning?) and reaches for his pocket.  “Here you are.”  He holds my engagement ring with the diamond pointing upward in both of his hands and gives that to me over the table.  He’s being rather careful because my ring is indeed quite tiny and he’s obviously afraid to drop it.

“Thank –“ My hand extends towards it when suddenly –

There’s a shrill cry from the next table, which is hurriedly muffled.

Tom and I both freeze and turn our heads to see what’s going on.  There is a group of three late-teen girls sitting next to us and one of them is pointing at us  _really_  excitedly.  Another one is pulling at the last girl’s sleeve fiercely.

“He’s going to propose!” The blonde girl, who is having her sleeve pulled at, screams.  And I suddenly realize that they’re all staring at the ring.

“ _Oh mio Dio_!” A male voice joins in from the other side of the table.

Tom and I look around in horror.  What’s going on?  We wave our hands wildly and keep shaking our heads and go, “Nononononononono!  It’s not what you think!”

“Oh come  _on_!” The first girl gestures.  “Don’t be shy!”

“Go!  Say it!” The (Italian?) man from the other side cheers Tom on, in heavily-accented English.

We look around with dropped jaws.  The ring is still in Tom’s hands.


	28. What are Lips for?

“ _Dai_!  Come on!” The man urges again.

“But you don’t understand, we aren’t …I wasn’t …“ Tom frowns in confusion.

The girls slowly pull themselves back to “give us some space”, but all their eyes are still on us, watching our next move.  In fact, all eyes are on us in the little restaurant.  Even the waiters seem to have stopped whatever they’re doing and are holding their breath.  Now that, is the most awkward silence I’ve ever experienced.

In a flash, I grab the ring and put it on my left ring finger, narrowing my eyes at Tom and nod, “Yes, sweetie, yes.”

“She said yes!” The second girl is so excited that I think she’s going to rip the sleeve off from the other girl’s sweater.  “She said YES!”

I half stand up and lean across the table, while trying hard to signal to Tom with my eyes.  He follows my move and gives me a quick peck on my cheek over the table.  “What’s your plan?”  He whispers next to my ear.

“That’s the only way I could think of to make them shut up faster, sorry.”  I whisper back before both of us take our seats again.

“Congratulations!”  The girl next to me is actually trying to shake my hand while Tom looks on with an amused expression on his face.  He’s smiling.

I manage to smile back at the girl weakly, nodding to “thank” her. 

“The kiss?”  The Italian man bursts out.

I freeze.  I didn’t think that far.

“Oh yes!  You’re supposed to kiss!  Where’s the kiss?” The girl echoes.  I take a quick glance around and see all these anticipating faces looking at us.  Come on, people!  Who’d freakin’ propose over breakfast, in a local, little restaurant? 

I start waving my hand and do that “naaahh that’s silly” face, emphasizing it by rolling my eyes and everything.  To my surprise, Tom stretches his hand towards me, palm up, “Oh, come on, darling.”

He winks.

Hesitated, I place my hand on his, which he pulls closer towards himself and kisses tenderly, holding my eyes in his.  I bite my lip at the sight of it, trying not to feel anything even though I think my hand is going to combust from the heat he’s left there with his lips.  He acts really well.  I’m sure our audience would be convinced that it’s a genuine kiss and this whole crazy scene would be over.

“ _No, non si fa cosi’!  Dovresti_ …” that middle-aged Italian man doesn’t sound satisfied (seriously, what more do you people want?) and keeps mumbling furious Italian words that I don’t understand.  But I understand his gesture when he brings his fingers and thumb together on both hands and then taps them together and makes kissing sounds.  “ _Kiis-se_!” He explains.  Yeah yeah yeah I know what you mean but we’re not going to do that.  My fingers are instinctively on my mouth now, probably trying to protect it.

Tom is looking around too trying to figure out how to get out of this.  He is looking shy and tries to hide his face behind his hands but he’s having a big (embarrassed) grin on his face.  Tom you have to stop smiling, that would encourage them!  Stop it!  I try to kick him under the table but I forget that my legs are between his, just as usual whenever we sit across from each other at a small table.  So when I kick, the only possible thing I could kick is either the table leg, or, between  _his_  leg.

Guess what I kick this time.

My eyes widen in horror when Tom takes in a sharp breath and flinches, his face freezes.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” I fly to him and give him a hug from the side.  “Are you okay?  I’m so sorry!”  I keep apologizing to him in a soft voice, next to his head, trying to sooth his pain, and also trying to minimize the embarrassment in front of all the other people.  I don’t think the others can tell what’s going on because Tom’s expressions have been rather subtle and they’re probably thinking that I only run to his side because I’m so deeply touched from the “proposal” or something.

I try my best to ignore everybody else in the entire restaurant and focus on Tom, “Are you alright?  Tom, say something.”  I pull back a little and look for any signs on his face – is he in agony?  Does he want to cry?  Is he angry?  I think the diners around are making some noises but my eyes are too busy traveling between Tom’s eyes to notice.

“I’m fine, darling.”  He finally says.  “You didn’t kick that hard, and you only kicked the chair.”  He gives me a cheeky smile and winks.

“Phew!” I’m about to straighten up but he holds me down.

“How should we respond, my darling fiancée?”  He whispers, looking really amused.  “It’s _your_  plan after all.”

“What?  Respond to what?”

And then I hear it.  People in the restaurant are chanting in unison, “Kiss her!  Kiss her!  Kiss her!”  My eyes go wild at everybody’s mouths moving in sync.  The room is now spinning around me.  No this can’t be happening…this can’t be.  I shut my eyes tight and open them again, and they should go away.  No.  They’re still here, still chanting “Kiss her” in some sort of satanic ritual way.

“What do you think would shut them up faster, my little one?”  Tom smirks.

I glare at him.  You  _aren’t_  going to do this, Tom.  Don’t you dare.

He stands up and wraps his arms around the back of my waist, pulling me close.  The only thing I can do is to keep standing there, narrowing my eyes, trying to telepathize with him of all the horrible things I can do if he does what I think he’s going to do.   _I’m going to kung-fu you, or Wing Chun you, I’m going to throw ninja stars.  Tom…TOM!!!_

Being encouraged by Tom’s action, our audiences get even more excited and chant even more loudly.  Tom is looking down at me with this stupid grin plastered on his face.

In a deep, velvety voice, these words are forever imprinted in my mind the moment they are spoken, “Julia, I’m going to kiss you.” 

He gives me only a nanosecond to hold my breath before diving in for a kiss – it’s just a tiny peck but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get that out of my head.  And…did I just kiss him back?  Did I?  It happened so quickly that I…what’s just happened?  Why are people cheering?  My cheeks are burning.

I go back and sit down on the wall bench behind our table again, refusing to look at Tom.  He was right though, the kiss ( _WHAT?  The kiss?_ ) – It shuts them up.  Seriously, did he just kiss me?  Everybody seems to be back to their own business now that the show’s over.  Did I just daydream about Tom kissing me or…I check my hand and I’m wearing the ring, yes.  And I touch my cheeks and they’re still burning – I’m pretty sure they’re as red as a tomato.  Tom interweaves his fingers and rests his wrists against his thighs under the table and is studying my face rather calmly.

I need to ask.  I’m really confused now.  I frown, “Did we…did you…?”

“I’m sorry, darling.  But it seemed to be the only thing we could do.”

“So we DID?”

“I’m so sorry but I’m afraid so,” he replies with such softness in his eyes that it’s impossible to be mad at him, although I’d really love to.

“Tom,” I sigh.  “Why did you do that?  You know you really shouldn’t.”

He smiles, “It’s okay, darling.  Don’t forget that it’s part of my job after all, that I’m used to kissing different women.”

“But I’m not used to kissing different men,”  I pout.  I feel he’s stolen a kiss from me, but then I can be fairer to him…he’s got a point.  And it’s probably not such a big deal anyway, like the way he puts it. 

“However,” he continues, as the waitress puts our food on the table.  “That…was different.  I don’t regret kissing you.”

_Huh?_

“If that was the only chance in my life to kiss you, you can be damned sure that I would take it.  Ever since I’ve known you, I know what my lips are for – to make you laugh, to tell you how beautiful you are, to say your name, to kiss you…please forgive me for being so blunt.  I hope you’re not upset because of my unthoughtful and selfish actions.”

Can anybody really be upset with words like these?  I think I’m blushing even more and I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes at all.  I don’t answer and keep my sight on the food and eat in silence, keeping my legs even closer to my side so that I won’t accidentally touch/kick him under the table.

We finish our breakfast without talking or looking at each other, and only have eye contact when we ask for the bill but the waitress tells us that our breakfast is on the house for our “engagement”.  We’ve already given up on any further explaining so we simply accept it.

Once we’re outside, Tom touches my arm and asks cautiously, “Are…are you alright?”

I force myself to look up at him and wince at how pretty he looks.  I reply with a smile, “Yeah I’m fiiiine.  Don’t worry about it.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulder from the side and gives it a few assuring rubs, “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.  Don’t be cross with me, please?”

“Okay, okay.”  I shake my head, looking straight ahead.  “I won’t.”  To be honest, I am replaying the kiss in my mind and try to recall how his lips felt on mine.  But that feels SO, SO, SOOO wrong.  My guilt is eating me up from inside.  Oh my god, does that mean I cheated on Jeff?  I…it wasn’t me who kissed him… _he_  kissed me!  I didn’t even kiss back!  Did I?  Oh gosh, did I did I did I?  But I didn’t try my best to fight back!

“Are you sure, darling?  You look like you’ve having thousands of thoughts in your mind right now.  If only you could see your own face at this moment.”

I didn’t realize Tom has been staring at me.  “Y-yes, I’m sure.”  I stammer, but quickly recover by putting a teethy grin on my face, “So what’s the next stop of the Fantasy Tour?”

“Thought you may never ask!  And you’re in luck because I heard that it’s closing early next year so these are the last few months for tours.”

“What is it?”

“Wait and see.”

It turns out that he’s taking me to BBC Television Centre.  They’ll move the radio and television departments to the Broadcasting House so the tour will cease in the coming February.  He booked the tickets already yesterday and he took his printout to the reception desk.  One of the receptionists takes it, without looking at Tom, and proceeds to type something on her keyboard.  But then suddenly she takes a second look at the piece of paper, runs her index finger through the booking details, and looks up, beaming, “Tom!”

“Hello darling,” Tom smiles back.

“What are you doing here?  On a tour?” They look like they’re two old friends who meet again after 50 years of being apart.

Tom gestures at me and says, “Here with a friend, I’m showing her around London and thought this would be a fantastic idea to show her this wonderful, magical place.”

“Of course!  But dear, you don’t need to be on the tour.  I can call Benny to show you around, or I can just give you two passes and you can show your friend around by yourself.”

“Ah, would that be possible?”

“Ha.” She shows her fingers off as if to say those were the fingers to make magic happen.

“Thank you very much, that would be lovely.”  Tom rests his elbows at the edge of the desk and leans forward to see the receptionist getting our passes together.

So Tom is my guide everywhere for today, even at the BBC building.  We run into some of those supposedly famous people who I don’t really know (Yes I’m ignorant like that but I try to be polite and keep smiling at whoever I get introduced to) but it’s been fun being shown around a place by someone who’s been there before, because he’d tell me all these stories that are surely not told in a regular tour, he’d also tell me what he’s done here and there, and from time to time he’d get a hearty “hello!” from people we run into.

To be frank though, my heart is somewhere else, especially after the whole drama this morning.  I guess I should talk about it with him, but he’s acting as if nothing unusual has ever happened.  I can’t open my mouth about it when we are at the BBC TV Centre, can’t do that either when we have lunch  _or_  when we’re at the Natural History Museum.  He looks so happy and is certainly enjoying the day…I feel bad for having my mind elsewhere.  I really need to get that off my chest.  I know we’ve already had “that talk” before, but it was mainly just him confessing he has feelings for me and asking for a chance.  But I haven’t exactly made sure he understands that it can’t happen, that we should only be friends…it doesn’t matter how we feel towards each other.  If I don’t do it as soon as possible, I know that I’d probably try to keep telling myself to do it later.  But the thing is, I don’t have any “later” – tomorrow will be the last full day of me being here.  If anything bad happens tonight when we talk, I will still have a day to try to smooth it out but if I do it tomorrow and things end badly, I won’t have any time to fix it.

Okay.  At dinner, talk to him and crush his heart…crush  _our_  hearts. 

But this is for the best.


	29. The Round Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry again for taking sometime for this chapter. I’ve been busy writing a speech and finally I’ve finished :) But please be warned that I’ll be away in Europe traveling in the 2nd half of December and I won’t be bringing my computer along ^^;; I’ll try to write as much as I can before I leave, though!

Being in a busy crowd is the best place to move around in stealth.  Tom says that he’s booked us a table in SoHo and we’re taking the Tube to go there after the museum.  When I first see the many daily commuters rushing back home from work in the station, I’m a bit concerned if Tom would get recognized.  But then I realize nobody ever really looks at anyone or pays attention to anybody in this kind of crowd, especially after a tiring day of work.  If Tom were a bit shorter, he’d be totally unidentifiable even if you tried to look for him.

So here we are, inside the stuffy, jam-packed Tube train again.  Tom tries to keep me close so that we won’t lose each other among all these people.  However, I keep trying to turn my side towards him when we’re both standing in order not to allow too much of my body surface to be exposed.  I’m used to crammed train compartments in the city I come from but Tom still draws me closer to him protectively, especially when a lot of passengers get off the train at the same time and the wave would pull me away.  He’s not letting go of my hand and in the crowd, the best I can do to avoid feeling too close to him is to press my shoulder against his chest – and I won’t need to look at him or see…those lips again right in my face.  I only half-glance at him when he whispers into my ear (due to how noisy it is inside the train), “Next station.”

When we get out of the station and return to the ground level, I recognize the place.  We’re right next to Chinatown!    Tom leads me through several theatres in a row and I know that he’s in his happy place.  His eyes are practically glittering, “You’re gonna love it!”  Finally we arrive in front of a white building with a big neon sign showing the restaurant’s name on the corner of its exterior walls.  We can already hear the laughter from inside and see the waiters bustling about in the restaurant.  Several people are outside waiting for their tables.  Tom looks up and points at the words painted near the roof of the building, “Look, this restaurant was first opened over a hundred years ago,” he grins at me, “by the chef to Napoleon III.  Impressive, huh?”  He opens the door to let me in, and walks up to the reception desk.  The receptionist only needs to look at him for half a second and immediately says, “Good evening, sir.  This way please.”  She makes it sound like she’s been expecting him and also I think they’re used to having celebrities in this restaurant, from how professional and indifferent she seems to be.

The atmosphere inside the restaurant feels fun and vibrant, there is even a live pianist.  But to my surprise, we’re not being led into there.  Instead, we follow the lady one floor up and into a private dining room.

“Welcome to _The Salon_ , Mr. Hiddleston.  Would you prefer the food to be served right away or would you like to start with something to drink first?”  She asks Tom as she pulls out the chair for me, which I am absolutely not used to but I try to mask it.

Tom turns to me, “What would you like, darling?”

I shrug, rather cluelessly.  (And right away I regret doing it because that’s not very lady-like.  For God’s sake, I’m in this private dining room which can certainly fit more than two people, sitting at a candlelit table with this perfect English gentleman and I’m acting like I obviously don’t belong here.)

“Shall we start with some wine first?”

“Sure.”  Again, I know nothing about wine so I’m relieved that Tom takes the lead on reading the drink menu and ordering something that sounds beautifully French.  (I really have no idea!  You know I usually only drink cider.)  It’s only when the server turns to leave that I remember what happened last time when Tom and I had wine together.  Doesn’t he remember?  Oh my god… teeny tiny sips this time.  Don’t drink more than half a glass.  And I still need to _talk_ to him!

“How’re you enjoying today?” Tom helps me pour some water into my water glass, then his.

“It’s been fantastic.  Thank you so much for arranging all these!”  I hope I sound enthusiastic enough.  It _is_ a great day but I really need to tell him that a certain something is never going to happen between us.

“You’re very much welcome,” he nods with tight, upcurved lips.  “I wish I could do this every day.  I originally thought I would just catch up with my rest during these days before I met you.  But this is way more fun, exhilarating _and_ rejuvenating!”

He looks happy.  This is not helping.  I can’t control the smile that appears on my face, “I’m relieved to hear that I’m not getting in your way.  It’s never meant to be your responsibility to show me around after all.”

“Please don’t put it in that way,” he lifts his eyebrows.  “It’s my _pleasure_ , not a _responsibility_!”

“Thank you,” I look away coyly. 

We’re seated at a round table with our chairs next to each other, on top of a large Persian rug.  A small chandelier is right overhead, whose light is reflected from the oval mirror above the fireplace.  The closed door of the room has provided us some privacy, and with the room on a different floor, we can hardly hear the noise from the main dining hall, but the occasional chattering from the pedestrians who walk by or the noise from the vehicles can still be heard through the windows.  This would be the kind of place I’d like to take Jeff to as a treat if I can afford it.  He lives for nice restaurants.  _Hmm, I wonder what he’s doing right now?  He should still be at work at this hour._

Tom reaches over and places his warm, big hand on my thigh, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?  You’re a little quiet.”

“Yes –“ I almost pull my leg away out of guilt because I was just thinking about Jeff, but I manage to keep my composure.

There is a crisp knock at the door before a waiter comes in with the wine.  Tom lifts his hand off my leg and turns his attention to the intruder.  We keep silent when our glasses are being filled, even the waiter doesn’t say anything.  We nod and say a polite “thank you” to him when he’s done and returns outside.

Tom picks up his wine glass by its stem and raises it, “I could’ve never expected to meet someone like you.  I owe Alice my deepest gratitude for introducing us.  To Alice.”

I hurriedly pick up my glass and clink his, secretly thinking to myself that Alice has just talked about regretting introducing us last night.  Nevertheless, I repeat his words before taking a sip of the aromatic and silky red wine, “To Alice.”

“Please forgive me for taking the liberty to decide on the menu yesterday.  It is a separate menu for private dining and they told me it’s better to decide when I booked the table.”

“Oh,” I smile weakly in relief as Tom looked like he was about to tell me something much more serious.  “Don’t worry about it.  You know all about my favorite foods anyway.”

“I hope that’s not all you like!  I’d love to explore around more together with you and try out food that neither of us has tried before.”

“I would love that too,” I answer.

“So,” His eyes shine with curiosity.  “What’s the strangest food you’ve ever had?”

***

Tom and I chat happily over dinner.  I can’t bring myself to bring up _the_ topic because I don’t want to ruin this beautiful meal he has so carefully arranged.  I am careful not to drink too much wine, so careful to a point that Tom asks with a frown, “Do you not like the wine, darling?  You’ve hardly touched it.”  To which I shake my head and tell him everything’s fine, while inside I’m still feeling stressed thinking about how I should talk to him about us.

I wait until he finishes talking about the Pudding Bar (very excitedly) of the restaurant when the desserts arrive.  It may be the best or worst time to bring it up, as I might completely ruin this happy moment, or he could be too joyful to feel that sad at whatever I’m about to say.

_Julia, it’s now or never.  But never isn’t an option._

“Tom.”  I do my best to give him the warmest smile I can, after I take my time to let myself finish my previous bite of the delightful pear tart.  I carefully put the dessert fork down and hold my own hand nervously under the table, “I…I want to aah…talk to you about something.”

He looks at me with wide puppy eyes, dabs the corner of his mouth with his napkin and asks, “What is it, love?”

I take a deep breath, “I need you to understand, that…nothing is going to happen between us.  I cannot hurt Jeff.  I – “ I add hastily before he can say anything.  “I’m not saying that I don’t like you.  You’re an _amazing_ person, and I’m sure that I’m indeed very lucky to have met you and I don’t even think that I deserve that kind of attention from you.  It’s just that…this is so unfair for everybody, especially Jeff.  He even encouraged me to come here to take a break from it all and trusted me to go out with you and…you know, he trusts me.  And I really shouldn’t betray his trust.”

Tom looks at me with this blank expression on his face.  I don’t dare to move or even breathe.  When he’s not smiling, sometimes he can look rather intimidating.  I am petrified at the sight of his tightened jaw and the slightly narrowing eyes.  My own fingernails are digging into the skin of my hands.  I focus all my will on keeping my calm.

“Julia, darling,” Tom leans forward, and cups my hands in his.  “You have my utmost respect.  What you have just said is a solid proof that you’re not like everybody else.  You have principles and you protect the people you care about.  I was right about you all these times – you are indeed someone special.” He smiles, yet he is still frowning.

My eyes travel between those clear blue eyes of his – they’re incredibly blue tonight, I just notice.

“I understand what you’re saying.  I understand that it is unfair for you to make such a big decision, and I’m probably being really selfish too to put this on you.  But yes, you’re right, it is unfair to everybody…”

“I’m sorry, Tom.  I’m so sorry…” My voice fades quickly in a whisper.  “I just can’t…”

“I know, I know,” he gently squeezes my hands.  “I envy him, you know?  He’s such a lucky fella…”

I look down.

“But darling, you do understand that none of us can control our heart, don’t you?  It’ll eat you up from inside if you try to suppress it too hard.”

“Tom...”  _Please stop saying words like these.  THEY are killing me inside!_

“I fell for you and I don’t regret it at all.  I’m thankful to have you in my life…and I can’t even bear thinking of the time when you’ll be gone and you won’t be around me anymore.”  His eyes are suddenly glinting with tears.

“We’ll still be in touch, we’ll still be friends.”  I desperately try to stop him from feeling like that.  The fact is, I can feel the heat building up in my eyes and I want to cry too but my guilt stops me from doing so.   _Because, why feel sad for being friends with Tom?_

“Is that all we’re going to be?  You speak of unfairness…and…I feel like I’ve never been given the opportunity to at least show you how it can be.”  Tom says, in a voice so soft that it sounds feathery.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve only treated me as a friend and it’s obvious that you’ve been so afraid to let anything happen between us.  It…it is unfair because you’re rejecting me without letting me show you what it’s like to be… _with_ me.”

“But Tom, why me?  Why?  I’m nobody!  We don’t even belong to the same world, don’t you see?”

“Aren’t we sitting here at the same table, breathing the same air, sharing the same room?  There’s only one world, as far as I can see.  And you,” he taps the tip of my nose playfully.  “You are _not_ a nobody.  You’ve shown and taught me so many things, things that I didn’t even know before.  You may think that you’re not as good-looking as those stick-thin models out there but you have no idea how beautiful you are.  You’re so unique.  You’re not like everybody else, and you don’t hang out with me because of what I’ve achieved but who I really am.  You are a breath of fresh air…and I need fresh air every day.”  He smiles.

I pull my lips in to make a thin, tight line.

“Hey Julia, I have a suggestion,” he straightens up and grins at his own thought.  “But let’s finish the puddings first.  I’m going to tell you afterwards.”  He hurries me along.

Puzzled, I do as he says.  It is not a difficult task because the desserts in this restaurant are all heavenly, especially they’ve given us a sample of everything.  Probably on Tom’s request.

“So,” Tom wastes no time at the second he finishes everything he can see on the plates.  “This is what I’m suggesting.”

I turn to sit facing him.

“Let’s go on a date tomorrow, a proper date.”

I stare at him in horror, wide-eyed, “Sorry?”

“Yes, I’m now officially asking you out on a date.  Tomorrow.  That’s all I ask – a chance to let me show you what it is like.  And _if_ ,” he raises his index finger in mid-air.  “ _If_ it doesn’t work out, let’s just see it as a fun way to say goodbye.  What do you think?  Will you grant me the honour of taking you out on a date?”

“So…if it doesn’t work out, you’ll let it go?”

“Yes.  But please, come with an open mind.  It wouldn’t count if you keep telling yourself it won’t work out.”  He winks at me with a hint of confidence.  “What do you say?”

“I guess…well, it’s going to be the last day and if that’s what you need to…” My voice trails off.

“Is it a yes?”  His eyes are smiling.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, darling.  Thank you.”  He wraps me tightly in his arms.


	30. A Brand New Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I stupidly thought I could finish writing about the date in 1 - 2 chapter(s) and how wrong I was! There is a certain point of the story I wanted to get to before I go to Europe in less than a week but I guess I may not have enough time to do it :( I’ll only be there for two weeks though so please wait for me :) Here’s a longer chapter than usual for compensation xx

I’m honestly not sure if I have made the right decision by agreeing to Tom’s plan.  But he looks so ecstatic for the rest of the evening that there is no way I can let him sense my doubt.  He’s already making plans for tomorrow in his head, that he’ll make it absolutely unforgettable and he’s determined to give me a perfect day.  Also he says he’ll try his best to do “something English” with me so that I can show it off to my friends when I’m back home.  I enjoy looking at him talk when he’s excited because his face would light up with countless expressions and his hands would become really animated with gestures.  We’re still drinking and chatting and ordering more desserts after dinner was long finished.

“Hey, let me show you something cool.  Robert Downey Jr. taught me that on the set of the Avengers,” he holds up his hands in front of his chest like a proper kung fu pose.

“Okay,” I tilt my head to the side in interest.

“You can use it to defend yourself, even if your opponent is much bigger than you.”

“Ah, that’s useful!”

“Give me your hand, I’ll show you.”

I stretch my arm towards him and offer my hand, palm down.  His warm hands have just touched it when he exclaims, “Oh no, but this is your injured wrist!  Give me the other one.”

I’ve forgotten all about it myself so I’m really surprised that he remembers.  It’s nearly two whole weeks ago!  We swap seats and pull our seats closer so that it’d be easier for Tom’s demonstration.  He shows me where to grab and to which direction I should twist if I can get hold of the attacker’s wrist, and that can easily bring him down and kneel in pain so that I can buy some time to run away.  We don’t pull our chairs back after the self-defense crash course, though.  I don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or the fact that we’re comfortable with each other, we spend another half an hour chatting shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh, until we finally finish the whole bottle of wine.

Tom offers to take me back to my hotel but remembering what happened last time, I joke, “But I don’t want to sleep in the chair again!” 

He seems to be sober enough to understand what I mean.  “I promise that won’t happen, I won’t even step into the building,” he says with his hand over his heart.

He keeps his promise when we arrive at the hotel, where he affectionately plants kisses on my cheeks before waving goodbye, and telling me that he’ll come pick me up at 9 in the morning. 

My penultimate night in London. 

The last night that allows me not to pack my bag before going to sleep.  I look at the beautiful sweet peas and can’t help letting out a sigh, for I know I’ll need to throw them away eventually but I’m not ready for that yet.  I can’t bring them back home and so I’ll need to leave them right here in the room.  Just like…this whole thing.  I may take my memories away with me, but what happens in London stays in London.  This…ends, here, in London, after tomorrow.  And Tom will need to be nobody but a distant memory for me.  I need to get on with my life.  He wasn’t there in the first place and there’s no way he’s meant to be there at all.

 _Sigh_.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow but I don’t want tomorrow to come.  Damn you, Tom.  Why can’t you stay a famous movie star who doesn’t know me?  Why do you need to be Alice’s cousin? 

I try to stay awake for as long as I can before even closing my eyes – I’m trying desperately to savor, or to store these moments in my head.  This is where our worlds collide.  This is where we breathe the same air, share the same space.  This is the spot you slept in, Tom.

***

Morning comes sooner than I’d like it to.  I ended up sleeping like a baby last night because that’s what happens whenever I drink.  The instant I open my eyes, my heart sinks at the reminder of this being the last full day I’m here in this city.

The next feeling that comes right after that is the thousands of butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

A date with Tom Hiddleston.  Are you kidding me.  He.  Asked.  Me.  Out?  I’m starting to freak out inside because how am I supposed to act?  What am I supposed to wear?  We’ve been friends for all these days, so should I act any differently today?  But then I can’t and I shouldn’t…it’ll just feel _weird_.  And should I dress up a bit or play it cool?  Argh, to hell with it, I don’t even have the clothes to dress up anyway.  So…does it count as a first date?  But we’ve been sort of “going out”, in a semi-date-like setting before.  What should I wear?  ARGH.  JULIA!!  You’ve got nothing in your luggage!  JUST THROW SOMETHING ON!

My head is getting a bit noisy inside and I try to shake it away.  Let’s see, I’ve only got this pair of jeans I was wearing yesterday and I intend to wear it until I fly back home so…I need to wear that.  I guess it’s better to wear the lace flats than the sneakers so that settles too.  I dig around in my luggage and find that I still have this white lace shirt I haven’t worn yet – HOORAY!  Okay, so I’m going for this lacey, preppy look with my hair loose around my shoulders.  I hope I’m not over doing it…or am I acting like I don’t care enough?  And now some color on the lips to make me look less pale…oh my god, will he try to kiss me again today?  Since I’m “officially” his date?  Naahhh, he’s more respectful than that.  But what if he has that in mind?  _Gasp_.  Does my bra match with my panties?  I subconsciously do a mental check of that.  Shit, what _are_ you thinking?  No one’s gonna see your underwear but yourself!

I swear I am about to slap my own face to stop thinking when the hotel phone rings.  I clear my throat and answer, “Hello?”

“Good morning, little darling!” It’s Tom, speaking in a cheery voice.

“Good morning,” I try to sound as calm as I can, even though I’m pretty sure I’m anything but that.

“Are you ready?  I’ll be there in 2 minutes.  Can you please come and meet me outside the hotel?”

“Sure!” I can feel my heart beat faster at the thought of being able to see Tom this soon again.

“See you in a minute, my princess.”

“See ya.”

I throw my burgundy skirted coat on top of my outfit, quickly check if I’ve got everything I need in my handbag and leave the room.

He must have been closer that he claimed to be because he’s already there when I walk out of the hotel, standing next to a waiting taxi.  He looks so unbelievably handsome – he’s wearing a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up and a black tie, with a buttoned vest on top of those, and pants that fit so well on those long legs of his.  Am I being underdressed here?  I don’t have the time to think about that though because his arms open wide at the sight of me and he steps forward to give me a big hug and a huge kiss on my cheek, “Good morning!  Mmm…you smell nice!”

“Erm, really?” I touch my own neck embarrassedly because I didn’t expect he’d be able to tell.  The truth is, I am wearing some of my favorite perfume – Dolce & Gabbana’s _Light Blue,_ of which I carry a tiny sample bottle whenever I’m traveling “just in case”, before I leave my room this morning.  But I’m not going to tell him that.

He opens the door and gestures at me to get in, “Please.”

I play along and answer him with a smile, “Thank you, sir.”

Tom walks around the taxi and gets in from the other side, and tells the driver to go back to the place where he picked him up at.

“Where are we going?”  I wonder where he’s been.

“Back to my place!”  He says a-matter-of-factly. 

“Huh?  Oh, okay.” I thought we were going out.

Tom can tell what I’m thinking from what I’ve just said, “Well, we need to have breakfast first, don’t we?  It’s time to show you one of my superpowers.”  He is having such a wide grin it wrinkles his eyes.

“Which is…?” I prompt.

“You’ll find out,” he nods as he turns his head away with a smile.

It’s just a short ride back to his place.  I feel genuinely touched that he bothers to come pick me up at my hotel because he can simply ask me to go to his place instead.  He’s really taking this seriously.

When we arrive, (George says good morning to me seeing I’m with Tom, huh) Tom’s place smells all breakfast-y.  Apparently he has just paused his cooking right before he headed out, because the moment when we enter through the door, he rushes back into the kitchen to check on the food and turn the kettle on.

I simply stand there, out of his way, and enjoy the view – nothing’s more heartwarming than seeing a man cook for you.  It takes a minute for him to get the wheels turning again in the kitchen, and then he notices me.  He takes a few long strides towards me, grabs my shoulders and twirls me around, “Sorry darling, this is a strictly forbidden area, so you should sit at the table.  Breakfast will be ready soon.” He gives a light but firm pat on my back and so I walk to the table obediently.  I want to turn my head to see how he’s doing but before I can do it, he yells, “No peeking!”

I giggle.  How does he know?

“It’s been quite a while since I did this last time, so I hope this’ll still turn out fine.” Tom says from inside the kitchen.

“I’m sure it will, Tom.”

I don’t even need to look to know that he’s making an English breakfast.  I can smell and hear the sizzling of the eggs, bacon and mushrooms on the pans.  Tom’s in such a good mood that he starts humming a tune that I’m not familiar with when he’s putting the finishing touches on the plate (yes, I do peek).

“So that’s my superpower,” he says as he walks out of the kitchen with one plate on each of his hand.  And I raise my eyebrows at him – I just notice he’s wearing an apron to protect that nice outfit of his.  “I can get an English breakfast hot on the plate at the same time.”  He carefully places a plate in front of me and then the other at his seat.  “I’ll be right back with the juice and tea.”

Wow.  This is already a feast for the eyes even before I taste them in my mouth.  I need to take my food photo.  I’ve just fetched my camera and returned to my seat when Tom comes back with the tea.  “Eheheheee!  Taking your food photos again?”

“Of course!  The breakfast is looking fantastic!  You can cook really well.”

“Thank you, I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”  He grins with anticipation.

We both take our seats and enjoy the breakfast after Tom offers to take a photo of both of us together.  This feels a lot different from last time when we did that, on the first day we met.  I can’t believe how close we’ve become in these two weeks.  It feels rather natural to have our heads so close to each other’s.  Anyway…mmm!  Can this guy be even more perfect?  The breakfast is exceptionally scrumptious!  He’s avoided every common mistake for cooking eggs, and the pan-fried food smells appetizing and is all properly fried but not burnt at all.  He’s _good_!

“I hope you like it?” Tom asks, a bit unsuringly, when we’ve finished and are drinking our tea.

“Are you kidding?  This is the _best_ English breakfast I’ve ever had!”

Tom chuckles in relief, “Thank you.  I did try my best for you.”

“Aww, thank you –“

_Bzzz bzzzz bzzzzz…_

Tom’s phone is buzzing on the table.  I’ve seen him deliberately put it where he can see it when we’re having the breakfast.

“Excuse me, darling,” he grabs the phone and walks away from the table.

I feel a bit bummed.  So I guess that’s what it’s like to date a celebrity?  They’re always busy and they’ve got all these people looking for them 24/7 for projects or fittings and everything.  I heard that they’ve started shooting Thor 2 in London so perhaps it’s a work call?  I sit there in silence for a moment, but then I decide to clear the table because I hate leaving them like that.  I stack the dirty plates and tableware while I sneakily try to eavesdrop on Tom’s conversation – not the best thing to do, I know, but I wonder if our date will need to be cut short.  I hold my breath when I hear the words, “…in 15 minutes?  No problem!” and “Of course, thank you very much, sir.”  Sigh.  So much for the perfect day he promised.  Oh well, it’s nothing he can control now, is it?  If he needs to go in 15 minutes, then I’d better hurry up with the dishes.

“Oh darling, what are you doing?  Put those down!” Tom emerges from his bedroom after his phone call.

“It’s alright, it’s just two plates.”  I continue my way into the kitchen. 

He hurriedly shoves his phone into his pocket and seizes everything I have in my hand, “Let me, my princess.  I promised you a perfect day that you’ll never forget, and this is definitely not on the agenda.  Let them go.”

I let him have them.

He walks into the kitchen and puts everything in the sink, “We’ll need to get ready soon.  Our ride will be here at any second.”

“Our ride?”

“Yes, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”  He glances at me from the corner of his eyes, with a smile that shows a sense of anticipation.  “Get ready!”

 “Okay.”  So he doesn’t need to leave?  Was the call about this arrangement?

We get ready in no time.  Tom only needs to take off the apron while I only need to put my coat back on.  As soon as we’re in the elevator, Tom playfully takes my hand and kisses it gently.  His eyes lock on mine and he bites his lower lip, “Your carriage awaits downstairs, my lady.”

I frown with an uncertain smile – is he so much into all these traditional stuff that he’s calling a car “carriage”? 

And then there it is.

My jaw drops when I see it waiting outside the building lobby.

Seeing my reaction, Tom giggles with his tongue between his teeth, “I promised that we’ll do something unforgettable and something that you can show off to your friends.  Would this do?”

“How did you manage to do this?  I’ve never seen carriages around in London!”  I must look like a goldfish gasping for air from the way I talk.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders to calm me down, “Well, there _are_ companies offering this kind of service in London.  It’s not like those in New York’s Central Park but hey, they do exist!”  He rubs my shoulder and points at the carriage with his chin, “Shall we?”

The coachman gets down from his seat and opens the carriage door for us, offering his hand to help me get in.  It’s a fully enclosed black carriage behind two beautiful black horses.  It’s rather small and low inside but it’s okay.  Oh my god, I can’t stop looking around inside the carriage and feeling like I’ve traveled a century back.  Tom sits next to me and puts his sunglasses on as soon as the door is closed.

“We may draw some attention on our way,” he explains, pointing at his shades.

“Okay,” I’m too consumed in awe to pay attention to what he’s saying.  “Wow…”

“Don’t forget to take your pictures,” he pats on my handbag that I’ve put on the seat between us.  _Oh yes he’s right!_

He’s really making me feel like a princess.  I’ve never been in a horse drawn carriage before, let alone a fancy one like this!  He really loves spoiling people doesn’t he?  Oh my god, this is awesome!  I can’t believe I’m doing this on the last day of my trip.

“Thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

He laces his fingers with mine, with a contented grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh darlings, I tried, I really tried. But I couldn't do it :( I have finished writing most of the new chapter and I've only slept for 1.5 hour before getting up again by 5am to catch the bus to go the airport...with Butterflies being the last thing I was still working on before I left!
> 
> I don't want to give a crappy rushed chapter to you so I think it'd better wait until I come back on 30/12. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support and Happy Holidays! Please wait for my return!! 
> 
> xx


	31. Traveling between Worlds of Fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally finish the chapter I was supposed to write before I left for my trip…it’s still about their date but it’s such an important day for them that I want to write out all the details!! :D The big drama will come after that ;)

It feels really relaxing listening to the horses’ hooves on the hard ground and feeling the steady rhythm inside the carriage as it moves along the road.  I can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face because I’m still feeling thrilled.  I’ve never got the chance to be in a horse drawn carriage.  It’s either too expensive and I think it’s not worth it or it’s something you wouldn’t do because you travel alone.  Tom looks equally happy next to me, so happy that you are able to tell that his eyes are smiling behind his sunglasses.  I guess you don’t get to do this every day, not even a famous actor.  We’re acting like two excited tourists checking out everything and pointing at interesting people or famous landmarks as we pass by. 

The carriage is going around a huge park now, it may be Hyde Park but I’m not completely sure.  It’s nice to see that many parks inside a metropolitan city like London.  The initial excitement has subsided after a while and Tom and I are sitting there side by side, hand in hand.  Whenever our eyes meet, it somehow makes us both look away quickly in giggles.  What’s going on?  It doesn’t feel like we’ve gone one century back, but a decade back when I was in my late teens and Tom would be 21.

“My lady,” Tom says.  _Okay so perhaps we’re still in the Victorian Era._   “We are approaching our destination.  But unfortunately I was told that the carriage cannot take us to the door so we’ll need to walk a little bit.  I hope that’s fine with you?”

“Of course!”  I can’t believe he would even ask me that, he’s doing so much more than I can ever dream of.  “It’s perfectly fine.  I like walking.  Where’s our next stop?”

“Hmm…I’ll give you a hint – we’re not quite ready to come back to the modern time yet.” 

“Come on, tell me.  What is it?”  I squeeze his hand and shake slightly.

He looks back at me and I can sense that he’s struggling internally – his eyes are darting everywhere as he considers whether to spill the beans or not.  He eventually settles on closing his eyes to take a deep breath, “This is all I would tell you: I remember all the places you want to go in London but haven’t been to yet.”

“Oh…” I try to recall what I’ve told him and mentally tick off the places I’ve been to during this trip…there are still quite a few, but it’s impossible for us to walk to the Stonehenge (well it’s not in London anyway).  The Gherkin?  But that’s really modern.  …Westminster Abbey?  Ha!  That’s historical enough.   “Westminster Abbey?”  I try, quite confidently.

“Nope.”  Tom shakes his head with smug satisfaction.  “Guess again.”

“…I don’t know.”  I pout, hoping that by making a cute face, it would make him reveal the answer.

“You’ll find out later.”  He places his hand on my face without thinking, and instantly looks like he doesn’t know what he wants to do next so he clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair instead.  “The ride will be over soon, little darling.  I hope you’ve enjoyed it.”

“I most certainly have!”

The carriage comes to a stop at the corner of the park and the coachman opens the door to let us out.  Tom gets out first, takes my handbag, and offers his hand to ensure I don’t trip or anything.  If I weren’t engaged to be married, I really could fall in love with this man.  I’m saying “if”, it’s all just…hypothetically speaking – IF!  But this is not real so forget about it.  The coachman tips his hat at both of us, “Thank you very much, sir.  Good day, ma’am.  It was a pleasure.”  And immediately he hops back on his seat and rides away.

With his shades still on, Tom reaches for my hand and starts showing me the way.

“Oh, I can have my bag back, thanks.”  I ask him the second we start walking.

“Ahh, it’s okay,” he replies with a caring smile, shaking his head.

“But it’s a girly bag!”

“Well then, I should be man enough to carry it.”

“To-om.” I give him a half-hearted, joking glare, as we stop to wait for a traffic light.

“Julia-a.” He raises his eyebrow at me challengingly.

“I’ll scream that you’ve robbed my handbag.”

“You won’t dare.”  He pulls me closer and plants a kiss above my forehead.

“Someone likes girly bags.” I’m not giving in.

“Only yours,” he sings.

Okay I give in and let him carry his beloved bag and follow him through the streets.  We walk through the shopping area quite quickly, and then we are now walking on a quiet street with rows of short buildings – it looks like a residential area but you can see some big hotels occasionally.  I am able to catch a glimpse of one of the street signs and it says “Gloucester Place”.  I can’t think of anything special on this street but Tom knows where he’s going.  We walk along the same road for quite a while, and finally we make a turn and still it doesn’t seem to be anything special to me…well, there’s _another_ Pret A Manger on the corner of the street.  We make yet another turn and walk for around 100 meters more where Tom announces as he sees something, “Here it is.”

This is just an ordinary street.  Where am I supposed to look?  Sometimes it feels so unfair to be next to tall people because they often see things a few seconds before you can and it makes you feel rather dumb.

“Here, darling,” Tom comes to a halt in front of one of the doors.

Ahhh I see now – The Sherlock Holmes Museum.  We’re at 221B Baker Street!  There’s a man in a 19th century police costume standing right there too.

I chuckle out loud, “Oh gosh, this is so touristy!”

“You _are_ a tourist,” Tom replies.  “And it’s fun playing tourist in my home city too.  This is one of those places for you, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, it is.” _Oh my, I can feel every particle of me dancing with joy._ “I can’t believe you remember such a trivial thing that I said.”

“I remember the look on your face when you talked about it, and that you really want to come here…I remember things that matter.”  He pauses.  “Well, let’s not stand here like a fool, go check it out!”

We go into the souvenir shop to purchase the tickets before walking up the stairs whose archway is labeled “221B”.  Once you walk in, immediately on your right, you can see this wooden glass box that says:

**ORIGINAL FRONT DOOR KEY  
TO 221B BAKER STREET**

Well, at least the key is so big that surely they wouldn’t forget about it or lose it.  Finally Tom gives up my handbag for me because I want to take photos.  (“You’re had your time.  It’s my turn now.” I can’t help adding that when he hands my satchel tote back to me.)  The museum starts on the first floor so we walk down the narrow hallway and follow the stairs up.  We’re lucky because there are not many visitors, surprisingly, considering the popularity with Sherlock from Robert Downey Jr.’s movies and Benedict Cumberbatch’s TV series.  I guess it’s because the summer vacation is over and it’s almost noon on a weekday. 

The whole idea is quite funny if you really think about it – it’s a put-together place based on a fictional character.  But the famous study on the first floor is amazing.  It’s rather cluttery but it is supposed to look like that.  You can even see the violin Sherlock played!  Tom and I take turns sitting in Sherlock’s armchair and take silly photos.  It seems that not as much efforts have been put into Dr. Watson’s room and Mrs. Hudson’s room on the second floor but it’s still a lot of fun visiting this place.  The staff there are helpful with photos and answering questions too, and one of the maids recognizes Tom and asks for an autograph, which luckily doesn’t attract too much attention among the few visitors.

I’ve read from the reviews before that the souvenir shop is great so I ask Tom to go have a look with me. 

Things seem to be a bit overpriced but they’ve got everything from key rings to hats to pipes to…aww LOOK AT THESE TEDDY BEARS!  I’m sure Jeff’s niece will love this!  It’s even wearing a checkered cape and hat!

“These are cute!” Tom chimes in behind me, seeing me having already picked up one of the teddies and playing with it.

“Oh yes, it’s a bit pricey but perhaps I should get one…” I speak with my eyes fixed on the bear.

I can hear Tom’s smiling from his voice, “Wow these must be so extraordinary, if they can make a girl who goes on and on about how much she thinks plush toys are stupid and useless.”

“Not getting them for myself,” I reply defensively.  “Want to buy one for Rosalie…that’s Je –“ I stop myself before I say “Jeff’s niece”.  “…That’s this adorable little girl I know.”  I quickly add.  After all he’s done, he deserves to have _his_ day.

But of course Tom is not stupid.  In spite of my quick recovery, he still heard it when I said “Je” because I see his jaw tighten and his eyes instantly lose their sparks even though he’s still looking at the teddy bear.

I try to play dumb and pretend I haven’t noticed anything, hoping that it could turn back the clock to a minute ago.  “…Do you think this price is worth it?” I hold the teddy up until it’s beneath my nose and face Tom, smiling.

“Huh?” He blinks and turns his attention back to me.  “Yes, she’ll surely love it,” he replies, scratching the side of his face, obviously not having heard me before.

“But do you think this price is worth it?  It’s kind of pricey for a toy…” I fumble with the price tag that hangs from one of its ears.

“If you think she’ll like it, then it’s worth it.” Tom smiles and takes the bear from my grip, examining it some more.  “It’s for his relative isn’t it?” He looks me in the eyes suddenly.

“Wha – sorry?”

“You’re buying this for _his_ relative, right?”

 _Great.  He is refusing to even say “his” name now._   “Uh…” I stammer.  “It’s uhh…it’s for his niece, actually.  She’s just turned two and she’s the cutest thing ever.”

“I see.”  His eyes are back on the bear again.

I hold my breath to wait for the verdict – have I completely blown the day?  Does he hate me now?  Have I burst the bubbles?  I’m just about to open my mouth in desperation to apologize when he turns the toy round and round to closely examine it everywhere.  “Hm,” he finally announces.  “This should be okay for a two-year-old.  Nothing seems to be able to fall off or come out that easily.”

“Oh.”  This is the last thing I expect.  I am a bit taken aback but I’m glad that he’s okay with the whole thing.

He hands me the teddy bear back with a warm grin on his face, “Here.  I’m sure she’ll love it.  Mine are a bit too old for these but we’re expecting some new family members really soon so perhaps I should start looking at baby gifts!”

“Oh really!”

“Yeah, it’s really exciting.”  His eyes are sparkling again.  “And by the way,” he takes my arms with both of his hands and leans downward to me.  “You don’t need to worry about me.”

My mouth hangs slightly open with wide eyes.

He lets go of my arms, sighs with soft giggles, “I know you were trying to avoid mentioning Jeff, but that’s not necessary, my dear.  He’s part of your life and I respect that.  I only hope to become part of yours too.  That’s all I ask.  So don’t worry about that, okay?”

“Okay.” I reply in a soft, unsure voice, still trying to comprehend what’s going on.

“Come on now.”  He sings cheerfully.  “Do you still need some more time to look around or are you done?”

“I’ll just go pay for this now.”  I instantly locate the cashier.

“Alright, I shall wait for you outside then.”  Tom says after he gives a little pat on the teddy’s head as if he was talking to his own kid.

I hug the teddy close to my chest as I walk to the cashier to stop my heart from bursting out.  _Sigh_.  How can he be so wonderful always?  Of course Jeff is a sweetheart but Tom is…a saint!  I was expecting some sort of…at least a hint of jealousy or disappointment because I agreed to be his date today and give him a chance but all I can think of is to get Jeff’s niece a toy.  And all Tom did was to inspect if the toy is safe for a toddler.  Just…how can he even manage to be this nice?  If I were in his shoes, I would get quite irritated instead because this day might be all I can get.  Tom, oh Tom, WHY?  WHY ON EARTH DO YOU EVEN EXIST?

When I finally emerge from the shop again with the teddy inside a bag, Tom’s waiting right outside with a taxi again.  Somehow I have the feeling that I’ll remember this picture very well after seeing it this often in a day, and that makes me smile.

“What’s with you and taxi today?” I say as I lower my head to get in the taxi with the door held open by Tom.

He closely follows and gets in after me hurriedly, probably not wanting to block the traffic for too long.  He takes the seat right next to mine instead of the one next to the other window (it can easily fit 3 passengers in the backseat), “Well our next stop is not _that_ far but I’m really excited to show you what it is.  It’d take half an hour to walk there but we can get there faster in a car!”

I can’t help but giggle at his excited, happy face.

The taxi driver instantly drives off as soon as Tom’s butt touches the seat.  I guess Tom has already told him where we’re going before I came out from the gift shop.

“We’re going down the rabbit hole!” Tom slaps his knees with excitement.

Thinking he’s referring to the taxi ride itself or the driver’s behavior, I don’t know how to respond but muttering a “Yeah” and smiling back politely.

“We _really_ are!” Tom repeats.  And then he lifts his wrist in front of his face to check the time.  In mock surprise he exclaims, “We’re late!  We’re late!  For a very important date!”

He’s now looking really silly.  I frown, “Late for what?”

“We’re late!  We’re very late indeed!”  That’s all he’d say before he can’t keep a straight face anymore and doubles up in fits of “ehehehehehee!”

“Where are we going, White Rabbit?”

That starts him with another round of laughter and he needs to steady himself by wrapping his arm around my shoulder, before giving a peck on the top of my head.  “Why, down the rabbit hole of course!  Where else can we go?”

Okay now he’s acting truly weird.  I have no idea what he has planned but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.


	32. It's Time to Come Back to the Real World, Darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments!

It only takes around 10 minutes before the car pulls over and we get out of the taxi, and there we stand in front of an ordinary-looking building full of rectangular windows.  If it’s not for the birdcage luggage carts I see near the doors and the white translucent ceiling-to-floor curtains that cover the whole ground floor from the inside, I wouldn’t even have known this is a hotel.  I would probably think this is some sort of private office building.

“So this is the rabbit hole?” I look up at the building, narrowing my eyes at the bright sky.

Tom grabs my hand and starts rushing towards the door (still in pretend haste), “Come on, we’re late, we’re late!”

I stumble along behind him, tightly holding onto his grip just so that I can follow him closely enough.  He slows down in front of the main doors of the hotel and holds it open for me – _Gasp._   Walking through the doors is like walking into a universe of colours, whimsy and quirkiness.  There is this bright red lip-shaped sofa, all these white bar stools with an eye at the back on each of the backrest, and all these other furniture and decorations that make me feel like we’ve indeed entered the Wonderland.

Tom returns to his normal state for the moment when he goes and talks to one of the staff, but quickly becomes animated again when he comes back to me to lead me into the courtyard garden of the hotel.  _Hm, from the setting, it looks like we’re going to have lunch._

He can’t seem to be able to wipe that smug grin off his face even after we’ve sat down across each other.  I tear my eyes away from him and take a good look around.  This feels like a really relaxing place though – we’re sitting under a big clear rooftop, and there is lush greenery everywhere, with little waterfalls and lanterns.  I bet it must be even more beautiful at night.

“We’ve come here to have _tea_ , darling.”  Tom keeps grinning.

“I hope we’ve made it in time?”

“Oh I surely hope so, I hope the Mad Hatter won’t be mad,” he leans back and relaxes in his chair with a satisfied expression on his face.

My attention is now diverted to the tableware – my plate is painted with a birdcage and there’s a silhouette of a bird on my teacup while Tom has a pocket watch on his, with the image split between both his plate and his saucer so that when you put them together they form a complete image.  The menu is inside a vintage book AND the napkin is wrapped with a riddle!  What _is_ this place?  On the menu I can see “rainbow coloured finger sandwiches” and from the description I can see words like “yellow”, “green”, “brown”.  Then I see this “Eat Me” (Queen of Hearts Strawberries and Cream Mousse – when it comes, it IS a red heart-shaped, bite-sized dessert with “Eat Me” written on it) and “Drink Me” (Passion fruit Jelly, Coconut Pana-cotta and Exotic Foam – it does come in a little bottle with a tag that says “DRINK ME”, how cute!), before spotting the lollipop that would “turn your mouth from hot to cold” and the other lollipop that would “explode with a single bite”.

Needless to say, that afternoon tea costs me a lot of memory space from the SD card in my camera.  Even the sugar cubes are put inside a musical box, can you believe it?  Tom looks rather amused at the fact that I can’t seem to put my camera away at all.  I even stop him from eating at one point in order to take a beautiful food photo with all the food still presented temptingly on the plate.  It’s a wrong move though because after that, he won’t let it go and keeps teasing me by asking, “Am I allowed to eat now?” whenever there is something new that’s put on our table.

The champagne he ordered has left us both quite bubbly and chatty.  I’m genuinely having a good time with Tom, so much that I almost forget that I need to leave London tomorrow.  By this time tomorrow…I check my watch…I’ll be waiting at the gate already.  Stop.  Don’t think about it.

“…let’s face the reality,” Tom continues on our current topic about traveling.  “Even though we seem to go to a lot of places, we’re hardly really visiting those countries for what they have to offer.  Like when we were going around the world for the promotion of the Avengers, it was jam-packed with all sorts of photo-shoots and interviews and premieres…and when those were done all I wanted to do was sleep!  Sometimes I woke up not even remembering in which country I was.”

“Still, it must be nice to be able to at least get a glimpse of all those exotic places,” I argue with envy.

“I suppose, but I think it’s got to be better to travel around like you do, to really see the places and to observe how the others live.”

“Hey, you can’t always combine entertainment with work.  Your work is interesting and entertaining enough so you don’t really have the right to complain about it.” I twist my head to the left and look at him from the side of my eyes, lifting an eyebrow.

He shakes his head, eyes closed, and goes “ehehehehehe!”.  “You’re right, I shouldn’t be complaining about it.  I love what I do and I’m definitely enjoying the ride.  You really should do the same too, Julia.  To follow your heart and make yourself happy.”

“Yes, of course. But how?  Everything I enjoy, all these artsy stuff and traveling, doesn’t make any money and a girl needs to eat after all.”

“But you said you absolutely loathe the job you’re having right now.  Why do you still stay if it makes you unhappy?”

I shrug, “It pays the bill, I guess.  And besides, when I move to Montreal to join – “ I stop myself but then remember what Tom said back in the museum.  “…to join Jeff later, I think I’ll be getting another job.”

There isn’t any hint of emotional change on Tom’s face, to my relief, as he quickly replies, “In that case, then,” he raises his champagne flute.  “I wish you every success and happiness because you certainly deserve it.  To Julia’s happiness!”

I raise my glass to clink his.  But before I take a sip, he pauses with his champagne in mid-air and adds with a wink, “and to follow your heart.”  I lift my glass slightly towards him before we both finish the remaining liquid in our flutes.

***

It’s amazing to let a couple of hours slip right away from under your nose and you totally don’t notice it simply because you’re having a great time.  It contrasts so much with the pathetic efforts I made last night, when I tried so desperately to stay awake in order to prolong the time I have left in London.  I really wish time could stop…I’m too spineless to deal with reality right now.

From time to time I wonder if Tom is thinking about the same thing, since he’d suddenly stop for a second in mid-speech and his eyes would be shadowed with this sadness as he looks at me, studying my face.  But I’m not sure because he usually recovers fairly quickly.

My phone is switched off not only because I don’t want to be disturbed, but also because Tom’s with me and he won’t call or text me while Alison has already arranged to meet up with me tomorrow to go to the airport together.  Jeff won’t be texting at this hour anyway.

Reluctantly we leave this magical and fun place to head out for a post-feast walk, I especially need it because my face is starting to feel incredibly warm again from the alcohol consumption.  Tom says that there’s a place nearby which is on my list and he thinks it’d be convenient to go there for a look.  Somehow it feels like we’ve been thrown back into the real world after spending half of the day in a dream.  Naturally he keeps me in the dark about our next stop, but as we approach it, I already know that we’re walking towards the Covent Garden.  It’s a weekday afternoon, but that place is still swamped with tourists and local visitors. 

“Tom, let’s not go there…it’s too crowded.”  I pull him to a stop with the hand he’s not holding.

“Why, darling?  I don’t understand, I thought this was on your list?”

“Yeah…but…”

“Are you sure about not checking it out?  I know this is touristy but it’s quite a vibrant place with its history going way back to centuries ago.”

Why do I have the feeling that Tom wants to visit the place even more than I do?  He and his enthusiasm on anything with a historical background.  I chuckle inside my chest.  “Well, I _am_ interested.  It’s just that…it’s so crowded, I’m concerned about _you_.  You know, your _army_ are everywhere.”

His eyes instantly light up with a teethy grin that goes up to his eyebrows, wrinkling the skin around his eyes in a mesmerizing way.  “Little darling, I told you.  Don’t you worry about me, I’m _fine_.” He squeezes my hand and then draws me close to the most affectionate hug, “I’m a big boy.  Besides, nobody’s going to notice anybody in this busy crowd.  Most of them are tourists and may not recognize me anyway.  I’ll keep my sunglasses on, alright?”

“I don’t know if you realize it, but with your height and your look, you’re pretty hard to miss.”

He loosens his grip and beams at me, “Is it your way to tell me that I’m looking good?”

That makes me blush right away, “I…I…what.  I never said otherwise, though.”

“It’s alright, love.” He puts his sunspecs on, Heratio Caine style.  “I’m sexy and I know it,” he smirks as we walk towards the area hand in hand.

He’s right about nobody ever paying attention to anybody in a crowd because we proceed to check out the shops, the market and even stop for a street performance (which is a string trio with a modern twist) and nobody even stops to look at Tom.

We’re eating ice-cream again that he’s just bought for us from a booth.  We need to walk more slowly along the side of the street so as not to make a mess on our clothes, but it’s okay because that actually gives me the opportunity to idly window-shop at all those lovely displays.  We walk by Accessorize.  I really, really want to walk in but I still haven’t finished my ice-cream so I let it go and continue walking.  We end up standing outside Swarovski, which is right next to Accessorize, and check out the crystals with the remaining ice-cream in our hands.

We start giving silly comments to each of the necklaces or earrings or bracelets we see like “oh my God who’s gonna wear _that_?”, “That’s waaayyy too loud.”, “Ah that one is okay.” until I see this nice necklace with a butterfly charm.  “Ooohhh this one is pretty!”  I gasp in admiration, and the timing is perfect because I’ve just finished my ice-cream so I can press my face close to the glass wall.

“Ah.” Tom joins me and takes a closer look at it.

I tiptoe until I see the price – it’s not _that_ expensive but I don’t want to spend money on unnecessary stuff before the wedding.  Oh well.  I shrug with a pout.

“Do you want to go inside and try it on?”

“Nah,” I try to put on a nonchalant face.  “I want it but I don’t _need_ it.  Trying to work on my self-control here so help me out.  Need to get away from this window.  Now.”  I wrap my arm through his and pull him away from the shop.

“That’s impressive!” Tom raises his eyebrows approvingly.

“Actually it’s not, I’m only doing damage control.  I’ve already got so many stuff at home that I really should stop shopping.”

“Still.” He smiles, looking proud.  He pats my hand that is hooked casually on his arm with affection.  And at that moment, I just want to get lost in those eyes forever…no.  No.  No.  No.  I take a final glance at those eyes before I force myself to look away, hoping that he doesn’t notice my sudden discomfort.  I guess he doesn’t.

We spend the rest of the afternoon strolling around the neighborhood, looking at everything and taking photos of interesting places like the Royal Opera House and St. Paul’s Church.  When it’s dinnertime, guess where we’re eating at?  The Wolseley!  Just because he “feels mean to mention a place, gets me all curious” and he’d be “the biggest _ass_ (he’s certainly picked up a lot of American expressions after the Avengers) if he doesn’t take me there”.

Of course dinner’s lovely – the ambience there is beyond description.  The food is exceptional and the conversation is great too…well, kind of.  I can tell that both of us are trying to act as naturally as possible – we talk about anything and everything again like we always do.  There are giggles from jokes and silly things either of us bursts out and there are also these occasional serious discussion on politics and environmental protection.  However, from time to time, we would just look at each other in the eyes, and then look down or look away quickly in silence.  Those are the moments when neither of us needs to say anything.  We know what it is.  We know what today is, what tonight is.  No matter what we do, nobody can fight against time.  Sure, we can try.  Tom tries to order a second round of desserts, and I try to eat as unhurriedly as I can.  I need to decline his suggestion of going to have a drink nearby after dinner though because I really want to remember tonight as clearly as possible, and that requires me to stay sober.  I think he understands my reason without the need to explain because he doesn’t even try to persist after I say no.

Soon it comes the final don’t-know-where-we’re-going stroll outside the restaurant.

And then it’s followed by the final taxi ride.

It’s time.

We get out of the taxi together outside my hotel.  Tom sends the car away so that we can have some time to say our goodbyes.

Yes, it’s time to say the final goodbye.

We stand there without a word, our bodies facing each other but we’re staring at the pavement or the trees around.  I’m starting to feel a bit cold from the night chills…I think of the warmth and comfort my room offers yet it’s not a good idea to invite Tom to my room at this hour.  God knows what would happen.  God knows what kinds of excuses we would give ourselves because this is the last night…

“So,” Tom starts.


	33. Goodbye

“So,” I mirror.

We both stand there like two fidgeting statues.

“Uh, well,” I try to fill out this awkward silence.  “Thank you for today.  I’ve had a great time.”

“You’re welcome.  Same here, today was lovely.”  Tom looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

My brain starts to replay the day in my head.  “…You can cook really well too.  Wow, I wish I had known it earlier and I would have gone to your place every morning!”  I let out some nervous giggles.

“Oh damn, I should have cooked for you on the very first day we met!”

I wrinkle my nose with a huge grin, “I’m glad that didn’t happen.  I haven’t come here to put on weight!”

“What?  Are you sure?  After all the eating we’ve done these days?  Hmm…” Tom touches his chin and looks at my torso and legs dramatically.

“Stop it!” I hop a little to try to cover his eyes in a playful way.  “And if I’ve gained any weight, you’ll be the one to blame!”

He reaches for my hands and holds them down so that he can see me, “Ooohh so I’m the bad guy now.”

“Of course, you’re Loki!”

“You human,” he shakes his head, chortling.   He hugs me, and speaks to me with his voice above my head, “but I’m only Tom when I’m around you, darling.  I’m only Tom.”

“Mmm-hmm.”  I turn my head to the side, my right ear pressed against his upper chest and my eyes zone out at the car road.  A man who walks by shoots us a dirty look since we’re in his way.  I wonder what time it is?  It must be past eleven already since we left the restaurant at 10:30pm or so.  “Tom,” I murmur but loudly enough for him to hear.  “I should go.  It’s getting late.”

He gives me a squeeze and sighs, quietly but heavily.  “Is there any way to keep you here?”

“Tom…”

“But there are still so many places you haven’t visited yet!  Westminster Abbey, Stonehenge, the countryside…” his voice drifts off.

“I’ll be back.”  I whisper, clutching close to him to stay warm.

“You’d better be,” he rests his head on top of mine, trying to press down my flyaways with his chin.  “…I don’t know how to do this.  I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

I press my lips together to a thin line, and my nose feels sour.  “Me either, but…just tear off the bandage.”  He doesn’t say anything back.  I bite my lip, take a deep breath and…my heart aches when I let these words slip out from my mouth, “Goodbye, Tom.”  It feels as if someone’s just stabbed me through the heart.  My sight is blurred in spite of my attempt to hold back the tears.  I don’t want him to see me crying, so even though I should leave at this moment, I keep my head close to his chest, sniffling inaudibly.

“No…” Tom finally mutters.  He presses his lips on my hair and breathes it in, “please don’t say that word.”  He pauses.  “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.  I honestly have no idea.”  Argh, I can’t stand this anymore.  I blink hard for a couple of times to clear my sight, “Tom…good night.” I try to step back and pull myself away from him, not dare to look him in the eyes.  The longer it waits, the more it hurts.  It’s time.

He doesn’t let go of me, though.  His arms are still around me, firmly but not enough to hurt.  “Wait.”

“Tom, you know perfectly well that I can’t stay.”  _You’d better let me go before I break down._

“Please.”  He pleads.  I have no choice but to stay, at least for a moment more.

“Thank you for spending the day with me, Julia.”  We’re now looking at each other, holding each other’s arms lightly.  “I know it was a long shot…but thank you so much for today.  Thanks for indulging my selfishness.  These have been the happiest days I’ve had in a very long time and I’m sure I will remember them forever.”

I keep my mouth shut.  It’s not that I don’t want to thank him too but there’s this lump in my throat, it’s so big that I can’t speak.  If I open my mouth to say anything, I will break down in tears for sure.

“Are you sure about not having that drink?”  He tries again.

“Yeah, I…I’ll still need to get up quite early to pack.”

Tom looks down at the ground briefly.  When he looks back up again, I find tears in his eyes.  It’s dark in the street now but the tears catch the light which sneaks through the curtains from the hotel lobby.  And that emphasizes them even more.  They threaten to flood out from his eyes but he manages to hold them back…still, those tears have easily clutched my heart with such force that suddenly, I think I can’t breathe.

“So…you have made your decision, huh?”  He whispers, his voice is shaking no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

I don’t want to hurt him anymore with my words…oh gosh I don’t know what to say when he asks me questions like this.  I look away.  “I…”  I wince, “I, I can’t.”

Tom makes his biggest efforts to force a smile on his face but that only breaks my heart even more with those tears in his eyes.  “You keep saying that, what do you mean?  You can’t…what?”

“You know what I mean,” I frown in pain.  I don’t want to say those words.

He blinks and one teardrop rolls down along his cheek.  Without thinking, I hurry to brush it away with my thumb.

He seems to be a bit dazed, apparently not even realizing that he’s crying.  “Ugh…thank you.  Sorry.”  He hastily wipes his eyes with the ball of his palms to clear all the tears away.  He blinks a few times and asks, a question that’s directed to himself more than me, “Why must you leave?”  He doesn’t wait another second before he asks another question, “What do you not like about me?...Hasn’t it been a fantastic date?”

“Tom…shh…shhh,” I hush him softly and hold him in my arms, trying to calm him down.  Never have I imagined that I would be using a trick that Jeff has used on me on Tom.  I sweep my hand along his back, “Today’s _perfect_ , Tom.  It was _perfect_.  Thanks to you.”  He’s bending downwards to seek comfort from my hug, and lets me rest my head on his shoulder.  I need to keep looking upwards to try to stop myself from crying…damn it, _Cosmopolitan_ said that would work!  “And there’s absolutely nothing I don’t like about you.  You’re perfect too, okay?  You’re perfect.”

“Then wh…why must you leave?”  His voice is muffled in my hair.  I believe I can expect wet patches in my hair later on from his tears.

“Tom, sweetie…I _promised_ someone to do something.  So wouldn’t it make me a bad person if I break my promise?”  I can feel his chest tightened.  “You wouldn’t like it either if someone doesn’t keep their promise to you, right?” It takes him two seconds but I can hear him groan.  “And…that’s why I need to leave.  I’m keeping my promise.  I don’t want to be a bad person, Tom.”

He doesn’t say anything, but suddenly wraps me tight around my shoulders, in a way that he fears if he lets go, I would instantly disappear.  “Julia…” he speaks so softly that I almost miss it.

“Yes?”

“Will we ever see each other again?”

_I don’t think so, Tom.  I think this is the last time we’ll ever see each other.  It’d be the best to be that way…I don’t want you to be in pain anymore.  This is nothing but a dream._

“Of course, of course we will.” I lie.

Another pause.

“Julia?”

“Hm?”

“Can I…can I ask you for something?”  There’s a great deal of hesitation in his voice, even though I can’t see his face to tell for sure.

“Anything,” I smile.  And I mean it.  I’d do anything to make him feel better.  I can’t bear hearing that kind of sadness in his voice anymore.

He pulls back, with his hands on either side of my shoulders, gazes into my eyes and tries to speak.  He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“What can I do for you, Tom?” I prompt.

His lips part slightly, and it takes three more seconds until he whispers, “C…can I kiss you?”

I am about to protest but then I stop myself before I say anything.  I reconsider the whole thing…I guess this doesn’t matter anymore since this should be the last time we ever see each other…

“If you really have to leave…at least kindly give me something to remember you by?”  He bites his lower lip uncertainly.

I guess it’s okay.  I subconsciously press my lips together to check if they’re dry or chapped or anything.  My heart is beating like crazy.  I hold on to Tom for support or else I think I may pass out from nervousness at any second.  “Um…okay,” my voice is so tiny that even I can’t hear it myself.

Tom hears it though.

Slowly and cautiously his head moves closer.  He’s so close now that my eyes can’t even focus, but I cannot seem to bring myself back in control because I am not able to even close my eyes.  I simply just stand there, eyes wide open, and freeze.  His hands have moved from my shoulders to my neck and are giving me goose bumps as they slowly make their way to my cheeks.  Tom has just cupped my face in his hands when…

Our lips touch.

And it’s like a switch that automatically closes my eyes as they roll back.

Everything starts spinning around me.  I’m in a spaceship and there are stars around me, spinning round and round.  I cannot feel anything but that tingling heat on my lips.  I think it’s a marshmallow on my lips, a warm marshmallow.  It’s reducing me into nothing but a thought – my entire body has surrendered to him as it moves by itself.  My arms are holding onto his neck and my lips are kissing him back.  Somewhere in my brain is screaming “NOOOOOOOOOO” but…maybe it’s not.  I can’t hear it.  The stars are still spinning.  He carefully tastes every millimeter of my lips…so gently yet so passionately.  I’ve never experienced anything like this.  The world is still spinning around me and I feel dizzy.  I have no idea how much time it has passed but when he finally stops, the spinning would only stop when I open my eyes and look into his.  His eyes are the center of the universe.

“Thank you,” he smiles – it’s the smile that spears through my heart, again.

“No, thank _you_.” I touch my lips with my fingertips and I’m instantly in tears.  And that makes two of us.

We stand there in silence again for some time, still foolishly trying to fight the reality.

“Will you have chosen me if you’d met me first?” Tom suddenly asks.

My heart stops with a gasp.  I sniffle, “I don’t know…perhaps.  But Tom, it’s useless to ask _what if_ …”

Tom tucks his hands into his pockets to warm them up.  It’s indeed getting quite chilly at night.  I guess…it’s finally the time. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, looking downward at the ground, “Live without regrets, Julia.”  Then he takes a good look at me, making the effort to smile at me for the goodbye.

“Okay, I will.  Take care, Tom.”  I raise my hand to give him a little wave.

_I need to turn around and walk away.  I need to turn around and walk away._

And I turn around and start walking away.  I want to look back but I shouldn’t.  _Tear off the bandage!_   I walk up the few steps leading to the hotel entrance.

There are quick footsteps behind me.  Tom catches up with me, gives me a quick peck on the lips without a word, and hurries away.  I stand there in front of the hotel doors, stare at his shadow in the dark until it disappears.

I forget to do my packing that night.  I’m too busy crying myself to sleep.

***

September 14’s morning.  Time to fly back home.

I don’t know when I fell asleep last night, but I’ve definitely gotten up this morning looking like shit.  My eyes are all swollen from the crying, my hair’s a mess, my face’s all oily because I didn’t bother to do my daily cleansing and moisturizing ritual last night.  I’ve just had my breakfast at the hotel and Alice will be coming to pick me up in an hour to go to the airport with me.

I look at my sweet peas that I’ve put above my bed and immediately I find myself crying again.  Argh, I need to stop.  I grab my camera and take a few more photos of the flowers before I decide I really must start packing my bags.

It’s actually not that much trouble to do the packing, and it’s not difficult to double-check if I’ve left anything in the room because this is such a small hotel room.  I’m already spacing out, sitting at the edge of the bed, when the front desk calls me about a Miss Collins.

“Please send her up,” I tell them.

Soon Alice’s at my door, and the look on her face when I open the door only confirms the fact that I’m looking absolutely horrifying today.  Perhaps I can scare them into upgrading me at the check-in, ha.


	34. Back to Heathrow

“Oh my God…” Alice sprints into the room behind me.  “What happened?”

“Nothing.”  I mutter.

“Oh, nothing, yeah right.”  She casually throws her bag on my now-messy bed, after I’ve pulled out the cover and shaken the duvet to see if anything is hidden inside.

“Really, it’s nothing.”  I insist.  I pull open the zip of my handbag for the twelfth time that morning to see if my passport and my wallet are there.  “Can you please help me double-check that my luggage is securely locked?”  I half-heartedly gesture at my little wheeled luggage which is standing by the wall right next to the bed.  I’m still not looking at Alice directly.

Her butt slumps on the bed, and she doubles over to twirl my luggage around to inspect it.  “Yes it is,” she replies.

“Thanks.”

“Are you alright, dear?”

“Yeah I’m fine, no worries.”  I keep my head down and frantically distract myself by groping around inside my handbag to tick off a mental list of belongings.

Alice sighs.  I can hear that she’s rolling her eyes again.  She decides to shut up and wait for me until I’m ready to leave.  She looks around and sees the flowers, “Hey, that’s lovely!  I don’t remember seeing this last time when I was here.”  She stands up and turns around the vase/glass bucket to have a good look at the sweet peas.

“They’re from Tom.  I found these in my room after having dinner with you the other night,” I say nonchalantly.  I refuse to look at them though, I don’t want them to trigger another round of tears again.

“Wow, really?”

“Yeah, that was sweet of him.”

To my horror, I suddenly remember that I have left the card right next to the vase even though I planned to slip that into my wallet.  Alice, of course, sees it, picks it up and reads the words aloud,  “Sweet peas for my sweet pea, huh?  Kiss, T.  Hm.”

She pauses right there, still holding the card.  I rush to grab it and she lets me have it, but not without a price.  “So how’s everything with Tom?”  I know Alice asks about it out of concern, but I much prefer her not asking.  “I hope things get sorted out.”

“I guess so.  We…” I pick up my carry-on duffle bag, put the strap over my head and across my body.  “Well, we took our time to say our goodbyes last night.”  I grab my room key ( _still_ annoyedwith the huge tassel) and walk towards my wheeled luggage, ready to head out.  But that’s when I notice Alice is staring at me with a shocked/bewildered expression on her face.  Basically she stops moving.  I don’t understand what’s going on but suddenly I know what she’s thinking –

“Nooooooooooo we _said_ our goodbyes.  Like, _with our mouths_.”

She lifts an eyebrow at me.  _Shit, that doesn’t come out right either._

“We _said_ it, just like that.  _Verbally._  Nothing happened.” 

She points at her eyes by drawing circles in the air, “ _Nothing_ happened?” 

“Argh.” I grab the handle of my luggage and give a little kick near the bottom of it as I pull, “we’ll talk about it on the way.  I think I really should check out now.”

It feels somehow out of place to have my bags with me in the tiny hotel lobby.  I’m already used to walking in and out of here as if I lived in the hotel.  These two weeks feel so long yet so short…I mean, so many things have happened but they flew right by like a flash.  I wishfully hope there’ll be another message or envelope from Tom waiting for me at the front desk but there isn’t anything.  Check out is smooth and uneventful.  Soon I’m stuck in the same conversation again with Alice while we’re sitting inside a Tube train heading for Heathrow.

“It’s over, it’s time to wake up.”  I say to Alice who’s sitting next to me, while I’m busy staring at the blurry sceneries that rush by outside the train.

“I’m sorry to hear about that…” Alice replies softly.  “But I guess that would make things less complicated, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose.”  I look down at the duffle bag I’ve rested on my lap.

“I’m really sorry that I brought you this trouble, I never imagined things would go this way.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.  I’m holding up just fine.  It’s just a holiday and that’s exactly how it stays to be.  I’d better…I’d better go back home and forget about the whole thing.  Yeah…”

“Did he say anything?  H-how did he react?”

“He erm…” I struggle internally to weigh whether I should tell Alice about everything down to the last detail.  “Well after we had dinner the other night, at the Thai restaurant, I came back and found the flowers in my room and ah…he also wrote me this little note to invite me on a day out, that he’d show me around London some more.”

“Uh huh,” Alice’s listening intently.

“It was quite an interesting day actually…you remember that I left my ring at his place, right?  So we went out to have breakfast at a restaurant, and when he was returning the ring to me, people thought that he was going to propose!”

“No!”  Alice gasps.

“It was quite funny actually…all these girls going crazy and this Italian man kept talking to us in wild Italian,” I pause, deciding on what to tell and what not to tell.  “The restaurant even let us have our breakfast for free, to congratulate us on our engagement.”  I smile and shake my head at the memory.

“I’m surprised that I haven’t read about that in the tabloids.”

“Oh?  Oh yeah, it was quite surprising that no one seemed to have recognized him.  You’re right though, phew!”  I feel relieved at the thought that we got lucky that morning…imagine if that got out and it would be rather troublesome for Tom.  “Anyway, and then he took me to the BBC building for a tour and also we went to the Natural History Museum…but I did try to talk to him that night after we had dinner.  You know, _that_ talk we’re supposed to have, as you suggested.”

Alice nods.

I take a deep breath, “So there I was, talking to him about stuff…about how I’m already engaged to another man and that it’s not going to happen between us and stuff like that.  You know, basically to tell him to stop.  And to make sure he understands that this is not being fair to anybody…but erm…”

“What did he say?”  She leans closer in interest.

“Well,” I exhale and slump my shoulders.  “He was quite persistent and I remember him calling me as his ‘fresh air’.  And somehow it ended with him asking me out on a date yesterday.”

“What?  Why?  How did that happen?”

“He said that I’d never given him the chance to show me what it’s like to be with him.  And he said that it wasn’t fair.  Also if it didn’t work out that he’d let it go.  So I figured, well, it was my last day in London…if he needed such closure that why not?  Anything to make this end with less pain.”  I shrug, “And so we went out on a date yesterday…gosh I’m feeling really bad now that after all his efforts, none of them paid off.”

After another pause, I continue, “He made me breakfast at his place, and then he had arranged this _horse carriage_ ride…”

“He had?”  Alice stares at me in disbelief.

“Yeah, I was looking exactly like you right now back then.  And gosh…” I can’t help but put my hand on my chest over my heart, “he remembers everything I’ve said to him.  He remembers all these places that I want to go but haven’t gone yet.  And he took me there.  No matter how silly or touristy they are.”

“Damn that kid…”

“Yesterday was perfect, but of course…towards the end of the day I still needed to say goodbye to him.  Because I need to do what I need to do, you know?”  This feels funny.  I’m repeating the days I’ve spent with Tom as if I were talking about somebody else.  But perhaps this is the only way that can keep me from breaking down, again.  I need to focus on everything but Tom.

Alice places her hand on my upper arm, trying to comfort me but ends up being a little awkward because I guess I must be looking quite withdrawn.  She gives it a little squeeze and lets me be.

We sit there in silence for some time, until she turns to me and asks, “Seriously, do you want me to talk to Tom?  I can help fix this.”

“No,” I shake my head.  “Thanks but no thanks.  Things are awkward enough between us and if you go talk to him, no offense here, but it’d make things even worse…I might not see him ever again in my life so it’s okay.  We’ve already said goodbye so…what’s the point?”

“I guess you’re right…”

We don’t talk about Tom until we’ve reached Heathrow Terminal 3.  We line up together to check in my luggage and get my boarding passes.

There’s an incident during that time though.  When we’re in the queue, there’s a large wheeled luggage not far away from us but it’s abandoned.  The PA system keeps stating its position and asks for people to claim it but after around 15 minutes of non-stop broadcasting and yet it’s still sitting there.  Everybody starts to step back away from it.  Alice and I are right next to it and we’re starting to panic, so are everybody else around us.  And that’s the moment when an exhausted-looking mother comes and drags that luggage away as if nothing has happened.  She clearly is too busy to notice the announcement in the PA system and she really has no idea how many people she’s managed to scare.

“Wow, seems like I’d better go to the security line as soon as possible, God knows how long they’re going to take.”

“Yes you should,” Alice and I linger next to the little passport and boarding pass checkpoint.  “Oh well, you take care of yourself alright?  Sorry that I can’t make it to your wedding but I wish you all the happiness in the world.  Please say hi to Jeff for me.”  She gives me a warm hug.

“Thanks, Alice.”  I hug back.  “Thanks for inviting me over.   I’ve seen so much of London this time, it’s amazing.”

“I hope you aren’t scared away from London because of… _that kid_ , haha!”

“Nah, I’ll still come back, but let’s keep it a secret next time.  We’ll just not let him know!”  I join her in giggles, but of course none of this is meant to be funny.  “Bye, Alice.”

“Bye, Julia.”  She gives me a final pat on my back and turns around, waving her hand.

_Sorry for keeping secrets from you, Alice.  I just don’t want you to freak out.  I know we always talk about everything but…not this time._

Security check is quicker than I’ve expected.  Just don’t stand behind anyone with a baby stroller or…fashionable women – I used to overlook that category until I learned my lesson when I was in transit at Incheon Airport in Korea, where I stood behind a beautiful mother with 2 dozens of metal bangles up her arms and wearing none other than _strappy sandals_ , those with straps that you can tie around your calves.  And I swear it took at least 5 minutes for her to take off all those things.  After traveling by planes so often, I really should consider writing a book giving travel tips.

There is still more than an hour to kill before the boarding time but it’s always better to find the gate first.  I’ll take a stroll around when I get bored later.  I find my gate in no time and find an empty spot to sit down, next to the corridor so that I can get out more easily when the crowd arrives later.  I take the last seat of a row which faces the wall, and throw my duffle bag on the seat next to mine.

I want to send Jeff an email to let him know I’m on my way back home, but I can’t believe when I try with my iPod, the Wi-Fi isn’t free in the airport!  Argh.  I’ll need to spend extra to send him a text message then.  I tuck the earbuds into my ears and prepare to sulk in my own world.  Perhaps a game of Sudoku too.

It’s a very busy terminal and I need to pull my feet back every time when someone walks by.  Sometimes some people just walk incredibly close.  And then there’s this person (I don’t bother to look up to see if it’s a he or she) who walks by and takes the seat next to my bag.  By instinct, I pull my bag closer to myself, while thinking where should that “4” goes to for the next step.  I can’t concentrate though because that person is acting quite restless.  He (I glance at the shoes) seems to be looking for something in his bag so he’s inevitably shaking the whole row of bench.

“Tsk,” I’m starting to get annoyed.

And then he drops something on top of my duffle bag.  Dumbass.  I’m just about to pick it up to return it to him when I see it’s the little dark blue Swarovski paper bag.  I reach out for it, “Here you go –“

“It’s for you,” says a familiar voice.

I almost drop my iPod. 

I can’t believe it. 

My eyes are probably opened so wide that they’re going to fall out.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” I want to scream but it comes out like a stage whisper.

He’s only looking back at me with the hugest grin on his face.

“Wh –“ I cough to clear my throat, taking out my earbuds.  “Why are you here?”

“Hello darling,” he smiles, and lift an eyebrow at the little paper bag.  “Open it, see if you like it.”

My heart is thumping against my chest from the shock.  I don’t know what else to do so I do as he says.  It’s no easy task to “open it”, though.  I need to tear open the sticker that keeps the bag closed, and then when I take the wrapped box out, I need to undo the wrapping, and inside there’s _another_ paper box which I need to open until I finally come to the last box.  It’s really difficult too to do all these with trembling fingers, especially when Tom looks on with anticipation.

I open the box and of course, there’s the butterfly necklace.  I stifle a gasp with my hand but I can’t hold back the tears.  I’ve been having the urge to cry since I got up this morning but I’ve tried so hard to hold them back.  And now the dam is broken.

He gently puts my bag lying between us on the floor and slides to sit next to me.  He wraps his arm around my shoulders so protectively that I naturally rest my head upon his chest, being such a crying mess.  I can’t take my eyes off the necklace in that little box, which I’m still clutching in my hands.  _Who gives you the right to pay attention to everything I like, Tom?  Damn it._

Tom starts to run his fingers through my hair half-heartedly, and softly he asks, “Why are you crying, darling?  I hope I remember correctly that’s what you had your eyes on yesterday.”

“It is…but Tom,” I push myself away from his cuddle.  “ _What_ are you doing here?”

He carefully puts the necklace away and cups my hands in his, “I can’t stand wasting any seconds with you while you’re still here.  It was quite a challenge to find you.”

I frown in confusion, “But…h-how?  This is passenger-only area!  Are you going somewhere yourself?”

“Actually, no.  I needed to buy a ticket in order to come in…and this is an international terminal so I cannot even get a cheap ticket to fly to Manchester or somewhere like that.”  He makes that adorable duck face again, “the cheapest and closest I could buy was a flight to Norway.”

My jaw drops, “And you’ll need to fly to Norway and back?”

He giggles, “I really hope I won’t need to!  I’ll try to find some excuses and walk back out after seeing you off.”

“Tom,” I exhale loudly.  “Why?  We already said goodbye last night.”

“I thought I can accompany you while you wait.  You know, to keep you from being so alone.  And besides,” he picks up the Swarovski bag.  “I want you to have this.”

“Thank you, Tom.”  I force a smile, still having tears in my eyes.  “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome, darling.  Do you want to wear it now?”

“Uh…yes, sure, why not?”  I reply hesitantly, as I never wear any necklace when I’m flying.  I always try to reduce the chance of the metal detector going off but I don’t have to walk through another now so I guess that’s fine.

“Let me help you.”  Tom takes the necklace out of the box and I turn around, holding my hair up for him.

When he’s done I look at him again, and notice that he looks both pleased and blue at the same time.  He’s staring at the butterfly charm with slightly parted lips. 

_Ahh…those lips._

“Hey,” I automatically try to brighten the mood.  “I think you only come to see me off _inside_ the terminal because you’re afraid of Alice.”

“No!”  He frowns and draws his chin backward, but after a second he bursts out laughing.  “Okay, okay, you got me.  I have a feeling that she doesn’t like seeing us hang out together.  Actually, she sent me this a couple of nights ago.”  He takes his phone out, scrolls to a part and then shows me.

**Stay away from Julia, Tommy.**

So Alice _did_ talk to Tom, after all.  “Oh dear…that’s quite typical of her, I guess.”  I shrug.

“Yeah, the bossy big sister.  But she can’t stop me.  I do what I want!”  Tom shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Your Loki self is showing, Tom.”  My tears have dried and I’m giggling again.  Just like I always do whenever Tom’s around.


	35. Another Goodbye...?

Honestly I have no idea what Tom’s doing here.  Doesn’t he realize that he’s making it even more painful?  I was ready to go back to where I belong.  I don’t know what he wants!  Is he only after me because I’m a challenge?  Did I simply appear at the most convenient moment when he was feeling lonely?  And…am I attracted to him only because I’ve never received such attention from someone famous before?

I need to ask.

“Tom,” I say under my breath.

“Yes, love?” I can feel him swift his weight to look at me.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I blink and look down.  “I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but you’re making it even more painful.  I was ready to board that plane and leave these all behind.”

He doesn’t say anything.  I cringe at the suffocating silence that’s pushing against my chest.

“…Really?”

“Sorry but I don’t see any other way out.”

“You were really ready to leave like that?”  The words stab straight through my heart even though Tom keeps it calm when he asks me that.  “You may not understand how much it pains me to see you go…I…” he holds his breath in mid-sentence.  “I know I shouldn’t have come.  I’m sorry.”

I am so focused on my thought that I miss his apology, “There’s something I need to know though.  And I’m only asking because, to be frank, I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again –“

“Please don’t say that.  I can’t even stand the thought of it.”

“Sorry,” I press my own fist against my lips.  “Well, I just want to know, why me?  Seriously, why me?  I know I’ve asked you this before but I honestly don’t understand.  I’m engaged and unavailable, and I live so far away, AND you’ve got all these beautiful women around you.  Why me?”

He strokes my hair, staring into the distance, “You want the truth?  The truth is…I don’t know.  I don’t know why I’ve fallen so hard for you.  Since I saw you at Uncle Jimmy’s place, you’ve…consumed my brain.  You’ve bewitched me.  I have this insatiable urge to spend more time with you and to see you smile.  I don’t know if this is making any sense…I hate myself for not being able to control my own feelings.  I hate to be the other guy.  I guess I’ve chosen to follow my heart.”

He stops there and places his lips firmly on my forehead.

“I’m selfish, I know,” he continues.  “I would have kept my feelings to myself if I’m not sure about it.  Hurting you is the last thing I want to do.  What you share with Jeff is beautiful…if I wasn’t confident that I could make you happy, I really would’ve kept all the words bottled up inside.”

“But don’t you think a crowded relationship is never going to bring happiness to anyone?”

“Julia…that’s why I’m here.”

“Are you implying that I should leave Jeff for you?”  I look into his eyes.

“I…I…” he stammers.  “I wouldn’t use the word _should_ …”

“Tom, it took us years to come to this stage.  It’s ridiculous to throw these all in the gutter,” I grab his hand that he’s resting on his lap and squeeze, trying to make him understand better, trying to persuade him.  “I don’t wanna…I don’t want to end up with nobody in the end.”

“Why would that happen?  I’ll always be there for you!”

“Tom,” I make my best effort to force a smile.  “You belong to everybody.  Even if you try, even if you try your very best, you won’t be able to control everything.”

Tom gives no counter-argument and seems to give that idea some thought.

After half an hour of silence, we recline in the seats, his arm still around my shoulder, and we’re just sitting there in our own cocoon protected by invisible walls all around us – we enjoy ignoring everything and everybody.  This is a world of only two people and nobody else.  There are no distance between continents, no wedding, no worrying of being recognized, no goodbyes, and on top of everything, please, no boarding calls.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.  This is the boarding announcement for VS238 with service to…” that lady from the ground crew can’t possibly sound more bored.

I turn my head around and find the long line of at least 30 people queuing up for Economy Class.  More people are getting up from their seats to join it due to the announcement.

“…We are now inviting passengers with…” her voice continues to drone on.  The usual blah-blah-blah.  And the usual line of people who keep queuing regardless of their row number or the class they’re flying in.

Usually I’d go line up as well at this time.  I usually sit at the back of the plane and if I board too late, it’ll take forever to reach my row because people will be in my way for sure trying to put their bags and stuff into the overhead compartments.  On top of that, if all the room in the overhead compartments is taken, my bag may end up being stowed away many rows in front of mine.  But somehow my internal self keeps me here with Tom.  I keep glancing at the ever-growing line (it’s hard for me to see the end of it now) and know I should go but…I don’t want to.

We aren’t exactly talking or resolving our little issue.  We’re just sitting there, trying desperately to wish time would freeze.  Tom presses his forehead against the side of my head, slightly above my temple, and takes some deep breaths.  I know the time has come.  The line is getting shorter by the minute and now there are only around a dozen passengers waiting to show their boarding passes and passports.

“I erm…” I cough.  My throat is suddenly dry.  “I should go.”

“Wait.” Tom tugs at my arm as I am straightening up.

I take another quick glance at the line.  There are only 5 passengers left.  “But –“

He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out an envelope.  “Here, take this.”  He gently picks my hand up and places that envelope in my hand.  I can feel his hands trembling.  “Please forgive me.”

I’m confused.  What’s inside the envelope?  It doesn’t look like the previous ones he’s given to me.  A questionable frown creeps across my face.

“You should go,” he stands up and hands me my duffle bag.

As soon as he finishes those words, that bored lady speaks into the microphone again, after the many announcements she’s made in the past 20 minutes, “this is the final boarding call for VS238.  All passengers please proceed to Gate 21…”

I scramble to take my boarding pass and passport out, and flip my passport to the biodata page.  I hang my handbag on my arm and put the strap of my carry-on over my shoulder, while trying to hold everything else in my hands.  I’m now officially the last person to board the plane because the bored lady clearly wants to hurry us along as we approach the gate counter, but graciously decides that we can have a minute more to say goodbye when she sees Tom wrap me in a tight, passionate embrace.

I’m crumpling my boarding pass from the hug, but I don’t care.  I keep my eyes closed, trying to remember this more clearly in my head.  Tears escape from my eyes and I swiftly wipe them away, loosening the grip on Tom.  He pulls back, his eyes obviously reddened, and smiles at me, “Be happy, Julia.  Listen to your heart and live without regrets.  Be happy.  Because everything’s okay when you smile.”

“You too, Tom.  Take care of yourself.”  I do a semi-hop and hug around his neck really quickly.  “See ya.  I hope you won’t need to go to Norway!”

His eyes don’t quite match with his lips but he still goes “ehehehee!”.  He gives me a quick kiss on the lips, then pats me on my shoulder, “Go!”

I have my passport inspected and my boarding pass scanned.  I take a few steps and turn back, _just once more_ , wave back to Tom with an “I’m okay” smile.

_That’s it._

All by myself, I walk towards the aircraft through the jet bridge. 

We’re in two separate worlds again, even though I can still sense the lingering taste of his lips on mine, and the warmth from him around my shoulders.  But it’s all vaporized in the air with every step I take.  The closer I walk towards the plane, the farther I’m away from Tom.

I pick up my speed.

***

The first thing I do after settling down in my own seat on the plane is to open the envelope and see what Tom said “please forgive me” for.  There’s a card with some loose papers folded and tucked inside and there’s also a printout of some sort.  I check out the printout first out of curiosity.

It’s an e-ticket.  From my city to London.

Wait, wh…what?

I run my finger over it to see if it’s a mistake, or if I’m seeing what I thought I just did.

But it _is_ an e-ticket receipt and a travel itinerary, with my name on it.  A round trip ticket booked in business class, fully-refundable and changeable, with the outbound date being…the day I’m flying to Montreal.  And it’s also leaving in late-morning, the same with my original flight.  _Tom, how COULD you?  No wonder he asked me to forgive him when he handed me the envelope._

Tom, oh why, I…I _hate_ you, Tom.  I want to tear that e-ticket into pieces to forget about it, but it’s no use.  There’ll still be a seat waiting for me on that flight no matter what I do to this piece of paper.  I want to…I want to punch something.  I want to stomp my feet.  I want to scream.  I want to…wave my arms wildly in the air and hop around to release some of my… _something_ that’s being conjured up in my chest.  But of course I can do none of the above because I’m strapped to a seat in an ascending aircraft.

I just… _ARGH._   I discreetly take a deep breath, and fold that printout like a lady before slipping it back into the envelope.

It seems that he has too much to say again, which explains the extra papers.  I bring the card close to my body, to steady myself better, and also to avoid the wandering eyes from my neighbor, who seems to be a young lad in his early twenties.

My heart immediately starts beating faster at his handwriting.

**_September 2012_ **

**_Dear Julia,_ **

**_When you’re reading these words, we’ll have said our final goodbye.  I hope I’ll be able to give this to you in person._ **

**_You’ll find a booking confirmation of a round-trip flight to let you come back to London if you wish.  I am asking you to consider it.  I took the liberty of picking out the dates for the flights, hoping you can think it over.  I will be there waiting for you no matter what your decision is in the end.  The tickets are changeable so you can also choose to return some other time._ **

**_Please do not be alarmed at how I got a hold of your information for the booking.  Forgive me for being so rude, but I copied your passport information without your permission during the night when you were sleeping in my place, as I was having a whim to surprise you with a spontaneous trip outside London.  Unfortunately, my agent told me that I should stay in London these days just in case.  I have discarded of your personal information properly after making this booking._ **

**_My apologies for the irrelevant, non-sense babbling here.  I fear of messing things up.  I thought writing the words out would make it easier but it certainly does not.  How should I put it?  I am such a coward that I am sure I won’t have the courage to say that to you when I’m looking into your beautiful eyes._ **

**_I am truly sorry for being selfish.  You deserve all the respect in the world, whereas I feel like I’m being the biggest idiot who doesn’t even deserve any of your attention…but I have a confession to make: I am jealous of Jeff.  I wish I were the man you’d go back home to.  I do not have much to offer but I can promise that I’ll always try my best.  Please forgive me for all these selfish actions.  I do not wish to put any burden on you and please allow me to emphasize that you are doing the right thing no matter what you choose to do.  I only want you to be happy.  And I’ll be happy too if you are, because I love you.  I’m such a tit for not being brave enough to tell you that before, but I do love you._ **

**_Thank you for sharing such amazing times with me for the past few days.  Julia, please live a happy life, for I know that I will because of the piece of sunshine you have left inside my heart, which shall be kept and cherished forever._ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Thomas_ **

**_P.S. Keep in touch!_ **

He’s enclosed the first photo of us which was taken with his phone at Uncle Jimmy’s breakfast.  He looks so excited in it and I can tell my nervousness back then because of my stiff grin.

I quickly put the letter and everything away for the moment.  I can’t process all of these right now.  I stare at the bright clouds through the window, trying my best not to think.  I try very hard, but after ten minutes I take the letter out again and re-read it, and re-read it until it sinks in.

I tell myself to hold all the tears and feelings back until they turn off the lights, but as soon as the seatbelt sign is turned off, I rush to the lavatory and cry my eyes out.


	36. Time to Decide

Home.

My feet are finally back on the ground, both literally and figuratively. 

I have two days…no, only one day and a half to unpack and pack for my departure again on the 17th.  Reality sucks me back in the moment when I’m home as if my plane landed in front of a giant vacuum cleaner nozzle.  Within two hours after I landed, my phone is swamped with text messages from relatives and friends. 

**I heard that you’re back, we should hang out before you go be someone’s wife!**

**Your mum told me that you’re back today.  Can you come out for dinner tonight?**

**I need to see you!**

**Can we meet tomorrow?  I’ve got something for you, beautiful bride-to-be :-)**

**Missing you already.  Don’t forget to show me the pics of your wedding later!  xx Alice**

And then there’s a voice message from Grandma, “Hi…are you back today?  I’ve got this box of chocolates that you can take to Jeff and his family when you go there.  When can you come and get it?”

Of course my best friend Talia, as calm and business-like as she always is, sent me a short email that says, “Welcome back.  If you need my help to bring some of your things, let me know.”  I’ve got so many make up, hair products, two gowns, and different pairs of shoes on top of everything else to bring to Montreal that there’s no way I can carry them all by myself.  Talia is such a sweetheart to always offer her help before I even ask for it.  I didn’t even need to think twice before deciding she’ll be my Maid of Honor.

Ah yes, the emails.  I can’t believe how many emails I’ve received during the time I was in the air.  The wedding planning websites at which I have registered have sent me numerous emails with checklists, showing what I’m “supposed” to do a week before the wedding.  Studying the list, I wonder if I’m having what they call a wedding at all, since I’m not doing anything they’re telling me to, including:

-          Pick up wedding gown and do a full dress rehearsal  _(Huh, why?  I’ve been having my wedding gown with me for weeks now)_

-          Final facial and wax  _(Nope.  I’m not doing anything out of my ordinary routine.)_

-          Give final guest count to caterer and finalize the table plan  _(No table plan.  There are only 20 – 30 people and besides, Jeff’s booked the place already.)_

-          Pick up ceremony booklets  _(No such thing.)_

-          Practice wedding speeches  _(No speeches.)_

Another email even advises me to pack for the honeymoon…we haven’t even planned for a honeymoon after all these flying around.  And don’t remind me of packing since packing and unpacking and packing is all I’ve been doing these days!

I don’t understand why people turn weddings into such a headache.  I’m already feeling unbelievably stressed before I even touch anything wedding-related.  Gosh, I’m thankful that I don’t go down that path like everybody else does – imagine the cost and all the troubles you need to be through.  And all these will be for One.  Single.  Day.  Do they even realize how environmentally unfriendly it is?  With all those decorations and all these silly things you only use once.  Anyway,  _take a deep breath, Julia.  Calm down.  You don’t want any zits on your face, not now, not one week from now.  No stress.  Noooo stress.  Breathe._  

I’ve been fed too well when I was in London so I immediately resume my exercise routine the moment I’m home.  I stink anyway from my long flight so I may as well take a shower after all these stinky works are done.  It’ll help me to calm down as well.

My phone beeps as I’m about to get on the stationary bike.  What now?

**Hope your flight was smooth and you are back home safe and sound!  Can’t wait until you’re here, beautiful.  Love, Jeff**

Of course it’s Jeff.  He’s sending me more and more messages as the big day approaches, sounding increasingly excited.  I smile and climb onto the bike, keeping my phone visible from where I am.  It’s been quite a few hours since I’ve been back but I haven’t heard from Tom at all.  Hmm, if I were him, I wouldn’t be writing to me either after that letter…or maybe he’s currently busy flying between the UK and Norway?  I roll my eyes and shake my head at that picture.

An hour later I’m covered in sweat.  The back of my top is sticking to my back and the back of my neck is starting to feel itchy from the dampness.  I’ve pushed myself harder than before, both from the guilt of not exercising the past two weeks and also I have this anger-like feeling inside.  I don’t exactly feel angry but I notice I started pedaling faster with an intense frown, feeling agitated, and gripping the handles as if I wanted to choke them to death.  I want to be in control again.  I need cold water on my face.

I stop pedaling and try to get down from the bike, but with my occupied mind and my uncoordinated limbs, I have one foot down on the floor while the other pushes the pedal downwards, and thus the other pedal hits right on the shin. 

“Fu –!!!”  I yelp.  “…OW!”

This is going to leave a bruise for sure.  I get down from the bike and bend down to rub the spot.  I am so clumsy that I bet nobody will be surprised if I manage to step on my own train or trip when I’m walking down the aisle during the ceremony.  Hopefully this bruise will be gone in a week.

So much to do, so little time.

After a much-needed shower, I send a message to all the friends and relatives who want to meet up to tell them that unless it’s really urgent, they’ll need to wait until I’m back a month later, when I need to come back for some paperwork for the immigration.  I’d love to see my friends, but with such limited time, it stresses me out to think about spending a whole evening away not preparing for the trip.

I empty my luggage and duffle bag to do some laundry, and see Tom’s envelope again.  With that still in my hand, it suddenly drains all my energy away and I slump down on the floor.  I can’t even pull myself up to sit properly in a chair.  I simply sit next to my pile of dirty laundry and the open bags.

Tom doesn’t exist in this world, he shouldn’t be here.   He’s destroying the balance in this place, he’s disturbing the air around me…why else would it feel difficult to breathe?  He does not need to be here to fill the space – that’s the top I wore when I first met him.  That’s the spot he held my bag at.  I look at the pair of heels I brought but never wore during the trip because it always seemed to be a day full of walking whenever I went out with Tom.  I kneel on the floor and reach for my book in the bag, and flip through the pages until I see two flattened sweet peas that I decided to keep.  And that scab from the cut I got at his kitchen has almost all come off.   _Oh gosh, why am I doing this to myself?  Pull yourself together!  But perhaps just one last look at that letter…_

My eyes cling to the last part of the letter…the part about “I love you” and about “sunshine”.  How can he know it’s love?  We’ve only been with each other for two weeks!  I can’t deny the chemistry or the fact that I do feel comfortable around him, but love?  He loves me? 

I catch a glimpse of my wedding gown that I’ve hung in front of the wardrobe.

 _Sigh._   It shouldn’t matter.

I hastily tuck everything back in again, put the whole envelope away and get up to continue my packing.   I don’t want to think about it right now.  I don’t have enough time.  I grab my packing list and keep hurrying about the apartment.

After a quick trip to the supermarket and a nap (I really couldn’t help it), it’s evening and I’m now online talking to Jeff on the webcam.

“WAH!” Jeff exclaims as soon as the webcam loads.

My tiredness from the jet lag vanishes at once.  I smile at him, or at the computer monitor, “What?”

“Wow, such a beauty!” He keeps grinning, looking as cute as a baby.

“You’ve got such terrible taste,” I joke.

“So do you.”

“Thanks for such a warm welcome!”  I make an ugly “huh!” face.

“ _You_  started it first!”  Jeff protests.  “Anyway, just one week left!  Can you believe it?”

“Oh yeah…gosh this is crazy.  It’s my last week being a ‘Miss’!”

Jeff looks at me for a second, and keeps that smile on his face, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine I guess.”  I shrug.

“Really?  I’m nervous as hell.”

“I hope you’re not having second thoughts?” I stick my tongue out at him.

“Noooo!  Are you?”

“Of course not, sweetie.  Actually I’m nervous too, but it’s more because of the realization that I’m going to be married and I keep trying to figure out…how has  _that_  happened?”

“Yeah I see what you mean.”

“You feel the same way?”

“I guess.  Especially since we’re not having a big wedding and we don’t need to spend a lot of time to prepare for it,” Jeff touches his chin.  “It doesn’t give much time for it to sink in.”

“Uh huh, that should explain it.  But baby, we’ll be fine, ‘cuz we’re in this together!”

“Yes we are!” Jeff gives me a virtual high-five.  “Damn, I can’t wait until you’re here!  Can you be here right now?  Please?”

Jeff continues to be this disgustingly sweet for the rest of the webcam conversation and also the next day when we talk again, so sweet that he’s almost made me forget about Tom.  That is, if you don’t count me keeping an eye on London’s weather when I was checking the temperature in Montreal, and the fact that I still haven’t thrown Tom’s letter and e-ticket away.  I know I sound pathetic but I’ve been packing these two days with the butterfly necklace dangling around my neck too, to keep me company, and to…keep Tom close.

Tom has sent me one very short email only.  I guess he’s said everything he wants to say so he hasn’t repeated all those lectures on living with no regrets…he only sent me an awfully short and calm message to see if I’m back home safely, and that he misses me.  He hasn’t written more than 50 words in that message but it’s enough for me to read them over and over again.  His presence is everywhere even after I finished my unpacking yesterday.  I still got my British pound sterling in my wallet.  When I save the photos on my hard disk to clear out my SD card, I see all these photos which I cannot upload onto Facebook.  On top of that, I can’t remember when I’ve put that envelope into my handbag that also holds my passport and keys and everything important.

I did manage to see a couple of friends and also grandma for the chocolates before it’s the morning I need to leave for the airport.  As usual , no one would see me off at the airport since I fly every few months, and also because I’ll be back soon to deal with the immigration paperwork.   

I don’t want anybody to be there anyway because I need to focus on the life-changing decision I’m about to make. 

It’s a miracle that I manage to drag myself out of the apartment – I am seriously considering faking a sudden illness so that I don’t need to face the airport.  Or at least to stall until I’m too late for both of the flights.  But Julia, who are you fooling?  You still need to deal with it.  Do the right thing and go get married, and forever ask yourself “what if”.  Or take a big leap of faith and listen to your heart, run away from it all into the arms of that man who always makes your heart flutter, but this choice comes at a huge price.

It’s crazy how close those two planes are with the departure time.  If one left earlier than the others I might simply wait it out until it’s too late for the first one and I can tell myself that I was “forced” to take the one which leaves later.  But I can’t do it now.  I need to make a choice.  I stand right in front of the huge departure boards and stare at it, pondering which Aisle I should head to.  Suddenly the lights are too bright in the departure hall and the airport feels so much bigger than I’ve always remembered.  People have stopped beside me to look up at the board and easily find where they need to go.  They come, stop for 10 seconds, and are on their way.  However, I’m still standing here, my eyes darting between the two flights, and my heart’s screaming.

London or Montreal?

Should I follow my heart or my head? 

I wait until the last minute, knowing that they’ll close the check-in counter anytime now.  I close my eyes, take a deep breath and tell myself  _there’s no turning back_.  I hold a tight grip on my luggage handle and run towards that aisle.

_Once you’ve chosen, stick to it._

Like Tom said, I’m doing the right thing no matter what I choose to do. 

“Hello,” I pant as I dash towards one of the check-in counters.  There are no passengers in the line anymore and I’m the only passenger left checking in.

“Wow, you’re just in time.  We’re about the close the counter.”  The lady said to me as I slide my passport across.

I gasp for air from the run, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be this late next time,” she advises me as she taps on the keyboard.  I’ve already put my checked luggage on the baggage belt to save time.

“Don’t worry…there won’t be a next time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Need to hear from you girls. To me this is actually quite a good point to finish the story even though I've got some more things planned in my head. I guess it's great to leave it like this so you can choose whatever you want. I can continue to write but this may make it drag on for a bit too long (word count so far: more than 91000 words). So I'll see what you girls like. 1) Continue under the same title 2) Continue in a different "series" 3) Let this be the end. Please let me know :)  
> ============================  
> Update: 23/1/2013 Butterflies has ended at Chapter 36. The ending is intentionally left ambiguous for those who would like to imagine or decide by themselves. However, if you would like to keep reading, you can do so by reading its sequel, titled “Butterfly Effect”, which will be up as soon as I finish typing its first chapter. It won’t be as long as Butterflies but it should be…interesting ;)  
> Thank you for all your support in the past few months - you’ve encouraged me to keep writing and to keep improving. Thank you.


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